4fei 


j  •-> 


BY  AN  AMERICAN 


LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

GIFT  OK 
THE    FAMILY  OF   REV.   DR.   GEORGE    MOOAR 

Class 


,177 


•  • 


SALT- LAKE  FRUIT 


A  LATTER-DAY  ROMANCE 


BY  AN   AMERICAN 


BOSTON 

JFranfclin  tyms :  i&antr,  perg,  antr  Compang 
1884 


COPYRIGHT,   1884, 
BY   RAND,   AVERY,   AND   COMPANY. 


THE    MOTIVE. 


[HE  incidents  written  within  this  book  are  not  exaggerated.  Those 
facts  upon  which  the  romance  hinges  are  more  hideous  in  their 
naked  truth  than  thus  clothed  in  fiction's  drapery. 

Human  nature,  weak,  erring,  is  prone  to  sin.  But  ever  between  temptation 
and  sin  stand  the  two  sentinels  which  guard  civilization,  and  keep  open  the 
road  to  advance. 

Law  and  religion  oppose  their  mighty  front  to  man's  brutality.  To  his  better 
nature  they  lend  their  force.  For  his  errors  they  mete  unto  him  punishment, 
they  waken  shame  for  past  falls,  resolution  for  a  better  life.  Even  though  he 
believe  not  the  tenets  of  any  faith,  even  though  he  be  so  unfortunate  as  to 
thrust  aside  all  creeds  that  cannot  be  proven  by  human  rules,  yet  will  cling 
to  him  those  lessons  of  morality  learned  at  his  mother's  knee,  yet  will  he  feel 
disgust  at  his  own  and  others'  relapses  into  sin,  and,  unbidden,  rise  shame's 
blush  to  his  cheek  as  memory  brings  back  scenes  and  deeds  he  would  forget. 

But  let  any  man,  knowing  his  own  nature,  put  himself  in  the  place  of  Mor 
mon  youth;  let  his  first  lesson  be  selfish  gratification;  let  his  law  and  his 
religion  counsel  immorality,  glorify  human  sacrifice,  —  and  where  comes  the 
end  of  crime? 

3104  m 


iv  THE  MOTIVE. 

Fathers  with  young  daughters,  clasp  tight  to  your  bosom  these  tender  lambs. 
Strain  them  close,  —  close,  until  their  hearts  cea%e  to  beat,  their  breathing  stops 
in  death's  awful  calm.  Better  thus  to  end  their  heart-aches,  than  consign 
them  to  such  a  fate  as  may  await  them,  if,  unchecked,  this  frightful  anaconda 
stretches  its  slimy  length  across  the  continent. 

Why  women  speak  not,  God  alone  knows  who  made  these  mysterious  crea 
tures, —  these  beings  who,  at  rare  intervals,  surprise  a  world  by  their  daring 
heroism,  and  then  amaze  it  at  their  long,  silent,  uncomplaining  submission  to 
some  frightful  fate.  Some  of  Utah's  women  religious  fanaticism  holds  in  terror, 
—  that  fanaticism  which  has  made  the  mother  tear  from  her  breast  her  suckling 
babe,  and  cast  it  into  flame  before  some  graven  image.  But  did  the  world 
stand  by,  and  cry,  "  Well  done "  ?  No.  Civilization  rushed  in.  Its  strong 
hands  held  her  feeble  ones,  its  clear  voice  rang  through  her  world  of  darkness 
and  ignorance,  and,  bidding  her  look  upon  her  deed,  branded  it  as  crime, 
punished  it  as  crime,  and  protected  from  another  mother's  madness  the  helpless 
child. 

Some  women  in  Utah  are  held  in  silence  by  domestic  tyranny;  some  by 
hope,  through  their  zeal,  of  gaining  influence  paramount  with  their  husband,  and 
thus,  pandering  to  his  vice,  obtain  mastery  of  him.  Disgrace  to  woman  that 
thus  it  is  !  and  yet  is  it  truth. 

But  to  you,  men  with  daughters,  those  silent  tongues  speak  with  eloquence 
beyond  all  words.  To  you  these  miserable  women  hold  up  the  daily,  hourly 
torture  of  their  disgraced  lives.  Help  them,  or  perhaps  your  own  ewe  lamb 
may  one  day  be  crushed  in  the  horrible  folds  of  that  most  hideous,  most  power 
ful  serpent.  Do  not  deceive  yourselves.  Do  not  believe  Mormonism  is 
content  to  rest  in  Utah.  Slowly,  surely,  the  monster  is  stretching  abroad  its 
horrible  body.  Cautiously  those  small  green  eyes,  full  of  cunning,  are  watching 
each  opportuuity  for  advance;  and  from  its  fanged  tongue  drops  the  poison 
of  its  accursed  creed.  The  power  of  its  institutions  is  more  wonderful,  more 


THE  MOTIVE.  V 

absolute,  than  was  ever  the  Inquisition.  Its  perfect  organization  excels  any 
known  government.  No  Russian  serfs  were  ever  more  completely  subjected 
than  are  its  followers.  Cunningly  it  defies,  overcomes,  and  subserves  to  its  own 
ends,  the  laws  of  the  United  States.  By  great  majorities  it  carries  every  elec 
tion.  Its  men  call  upon  their  creatures  for  support ;  and  those  who  would,  dare 
nof,  disobey.  We  are  told  that  blood-atonement  does  not  longer  exist.  We  are 
told  that  the  Mormon  law  is  dead,  which,  for  disobedience,  took  to  her  open 
grave  the  wife,  and,  first  bidding  her  look  therein,  cut  her  throat,  and,  holding  her 
over  the  yawning  hole,  let  her  know  her  own  blood  was  moistening  the  ground 
where  soon  would  lie  her  body.  But  do  we  know  it  is  a  fact?  Do  we  know 
that  law  is  dead  ?  What  do  we  ever  know  of  the  secrets  hidden  in  the  folds 
of  that  powerful  organization?  Do  we  not  know  that  persons  in  Utah  who 
mysteriously  disappear  are  never  found,  —  are  rarely  looked  for  ?  Do  we  not 
know  of  the  murder  of  a  noted  physician  in  sight  and  sound  of  passing  Mor 
mons?  Yet  those  very  men,  under  oath,  declared  they  had  seen  nothing. 
Those  living  in  Utah  have  known  how  criminals  are  shielded  by  Mormon  author 
ities.  There  is  in  Salt  Lake  a  journal  that  cries  aloud  to  all  mankind,  bidding 
them  wipe  out  the  lawful  immorality  of  Utah.  Undismayed  by  fears  of  assassi 
nation,  that  one  man  holds  up  daily  astounding  facts  that  are  unnoticed  by  the 
eyes  looking  at  the  stock-quotations.  His  alarum  falls  unheeded  on  ears 
listening  to  the  click-clack  of  the  busy  market-reporter. 

Fatal  indifference,  bearing  baleful  fruit  in  the  not  too  distant  future.  And 
the  money,  in  whose  gain  he  forgets  all  else,  —  perhaps  one  day  it  will  help  to 
buoy  the  Mormon  government,  fill  the  Mormon  coffers  when  that  government 
shall  have  substituted  a  Mormon  saint  for  Liberty's  statue,  and  wiped  out  this 
we  proudly  call  the  great  republic. 

It  is  no  idle  threat.  It  is  a  foreboding  of  what  will  surely  come,  unless  now, 
in  her  might,  Liberty  puts  her  heel  on  the  serpent's  head,  and  crushes  it.  No 
intermediate  legislation  will  avail.  Exterminate,  or  be  exterminated.  Forever 


vi  THE  MOTIVE. 

destroy  polygamy,  or,  like  Cleopatra's  asp,  it  will  fasten  upon  this  goddess  who 
smiles  down  on  us,  stretching  out  her  arms  to  homeless  exiles,  and,  lo  !  Liberty, 
beauteous  maid,  lies  a  pale  corpse  ! 

Great  is  thy  enemy,  O  peerless  maid  !  Therefore,  now,  while  life  is  still  left, 
raise  your  voice,  and  call  unto  the  hearts  of  men.  Thy  enemy  advances : 
among  its  minions  its  purpose  is  avowed,  —  thy  assassination"!  Its  rulers  wary, 
capable,  unscrupulous ;  its  power  immense ;  its  discipline  perfect.  So  thorough 
is  its  system,  that,  at  its  bidding,  its  ploughman  turns  his  plough  into  a  bayonet, 
and  stands  ready  to  cut  thy  white,  white  throat.  For  the  love  of  God,  for  the 
love  of  offspring,  for  the  preservation  of  thy  fair  life,  O  Liberty,  let  not  the 
monster  grow  ! 

Look  not  abroad  for  enemies.  Here  in  thy  camp  lies  this  hideous  reptile, 
fattening  on  thy  provender,  strengthening  under  thy  protection.  Crush  it, 
exterminate  it,  make  polygamy  a  dead  issue,  or,  into  the  grave  it  is  digging, 
Liberty  will  fall,  and  the  battles  of  our  ancestors,  the  name  of  Washington,  the 
glory  of  our  land,  will  become  but  as  thin,  unsubstantial  shadows. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  SPRING-TIME 

II.  MATTHEW 

III.  TABITHA'S  GARDEN       .... 

IV.  A  MEMORY 

V.  PEACEFUL  DAYS 

VI.  FAIR  PATIENCE 

i    VII.  GOOD-BY  TO  OLD  FRIENDS    . 

VIII.  THE  SOLEMN  PROMISE      .... 

IX.  "WHOM    GOD    HATH   JOINED,"   ETC. 

X.  CHRISTIE'S  VISION 

XI.  "MARRIED  AND  A'  THAT"    . 

XII.  VISITS  OF  INTEREST 

XIII.  A  BROTHER'S  HELP       .... 

XIV.  A  VICTIM 

XV.  DIFFERENT  THINGS  TO  DIFFERENT  MEN 

XVI.  THEIR  MARRIED  LIFE       .... 

XVII.  WITH  THE  MRS.  SMITHS 

XVIII.  A  SOCIAL  TRIUMPH 

XIX.  A  WOMAN'S  CONFIDENCE 

XX.  MOTHER  AND  SON 

XXI.  A  VISIT  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES 

XXII.  DAVID'S  BIRTHDAY 


PAGE 

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66 

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84 
90 

94 
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107 
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141 

158 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  THE  FALLEN  MASK 165 

XXIV.  A  TRAGEDY 184 

XXV.  INJURY  REQUITED 194 

XXVI.  "FOR  HER  CHILD'S  SAKE" 208 

XXVII.  IN  THE  SITTING-ROOM .        .        .  218 

XXVIII.  AN  ARCH-FIEND .  .        .        .*      .  222 

XXIX.  IN  DEADLY  PERIL  .        .       .       '. 234 

XXX.  MERCY!  MERCY!        .        .        .  ' 243 

XXXI.  A  HERO .-       .        .        .        .        .  249 

XXXII.  THE  ESCAPE 2S3 

XXXIII.  THEIR  PARTING       .        .        ...        .                .        .        .  262 

XXXIV.  A  TERRIBLE  RACE 270 

XXXV.  "  SEEKING,  THEY  FIND  "        *......  28i 

XXXVI.  MR.  JOHN  SMITH         .        .        .        .        .        .        .  .294 

XXXVII.  SALLIE'S  LETTER     .       .        . '    •  305 

XXXVIII.  GOOD  FOR  EVIL  ........  30Q 

XXXIX.  THE  LOVELIEST  WOMAN         .        .        ...        .        .  '     .  3I5 

XL.  THE  LOST  is  FOUND  . 

310 

XLI.  PEACE .        .       ...  323 


SALT-LAKE    FRUIT. 


A  LATTER-DAY  ROMANCE. 


CHAPTER   I. 


SPRING-TIME. 

T  was  spring-time  in  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  — 
that  fertile  plain  for  which  Nature  had  done  so 
much  that  it  needed  but  the  hand  of  man,  direct 
ing  its  irrigation,  to  make  it,  as  it  stands,  verily 
a  garden-spot. 

Every  thing  was  in  blossom.     The  season  had 
been  favorable,  and  all  Nature  was  in  her  freshest, 
lt|  loveliest  garb.     The  river  went  smiling  on  its  way, 
reflecting  back  the  sunlight  in  a  thousand  ripples  of 
brightness. 

The  birds  filled  the  air  with  song  as  they  flitted 
from  limb  to  limb  of  the  orchard-trees,  laden  with  treasures  of  white 
and  pink,  that  sent  out  sweetest  perfume. 

All  was  an  intoxication  of  beauty  and  gladness.  Beneath  those 
trees  stood  a  youth  and  maiden,  —  another  Adam  and  Eve  in  their 
paradise.  This  was  told  by  their  glistening  eyes,  their  flushed  faces, 
his  pleading  tones,  and  loving  words. 


2  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

One  arm  was  thrown  around  her,  drawing  her  tenderly  to  him. 
Half  yielding,  half  repelling,  she  stood  listening  and  hesitating. 

It  is  written,  "She  who  hesitates  is  lost."  And  who,  looking  on 
those  dark,  liquid  eyes,  half  hidden  by  drooping  lids,  her  parted  lips 
and  heaving  bosom,  but  would  feel  a  surety  of  her  soon  yielding  to 
the  pleader  whispering  in  the  delicate  ear  that  was  turned  towards  him  ? 

"Christine,  I  love  you."  His  breath  was  on  her  cheek,  his  hair 
mingling  with  hers,  his  arms  holding  her  close  to  his  breast  that  rose 
and  fell  in  a  tumult  of  passion. 

He  was  standing  back  of  her,  —  so  near,  and  yet  not  able  to  look 
into  her  face  that  filled  with  wondrous  light  as  he  said  "  I  love  you." 

The  birds  seemed  to  take  up  the  refrain.  The  apple-blossoms 
breathed  it,  the  very  air  was  laden  with  it ;  and  her  heart  was  throb 
bing  with  wild  gladness,  that  the  one  it  owned  as  "  lord  "  was,  if  but 
for  a  moment,  all  her  own. 

Trembling,  overpowered,  she  half  sank  into  his  arms,  all  resist 
ance  seemingly  over,  when  suddenly,  as  if  awakening  from  a  trance, 
she  tore  herself  from  his  embrace,  and  stood  trembling,  loving,  but 
determined  not  to  yield. 

He,  hurt  and  offended  at  the  very  moment  when  he  felt  all  gained, 
drew  back,  giving  up  the  tender  pleading ;  while  his  eyes  darkened 
with  an  anger  he  dared  not  speak. 

Standing  thus  apart,  face  to  face,  the  contrast  between  them 
seemed  greater. 

He  was  strong  and  fair.  Clustering  curls  covered  a  well-formed 
head.  Full  lips,  blue  eye's,  both  beautiful  with  the  coloring  and  fresh 
ness  of  youth,  but  in  both  the  possibility  of  cruelty  and  selfishness. 
And,  over  all  the  handsome  figure,  an  air  of  self-indulgence  and 
animal  spirits. 

She,  tall,  slender,  and  graceful,  more  tender  than  beautiful,  more 
intellectual  than  passionate.  Yet  now,  as  she  rested  against  the 


SPRING-TIME.  3 

gnarled  trunk  of  an  old  apple-tree,  one  hand  clinging  to  it  as  if  for 
support,  the  other  pressed  on  her  bosom  in  the  vain  effort  to  quiet  its 
heaving,  the  dark  lashes  hiding  eyes  from  which  tears  slowly  fell  over 


;SHE   STOOD    LISTENING    AND    HESITATING." 


cheeks  grown  pale  with  emotion,  she  was  fair  enough  to  tempt  a  man 
to  peril  his  soul  for  her  sake. 

So  thought  her  lover,  while  he  gnawed  savagely  the  red  lips  that 
had  but  an  instant  since  been  pressed  on  her  silken  hair. 

Neither  spoke.     He  was  full  of  rage ;   she,  of   some  earnest  feel- 


4  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

ing  that  could  not  yet  command  the  trembling  lips  to  interpret.  At 
last  he  said,  conquered  by  his  love  and  passion,  — 

"  Christine,  you  do  not  love  me." 

At  this  she  raised  her  tear-filled  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  from  the 
depths  of  her  soul. 

Trembling  with  exultation,  he  fell  at  her  feet.  Kneeling  there,  he 
once  more  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and  pleaded  in  quick  whispers. 

Again  she  seemed  about  to  yield,  so  much  did  her  body  and  heart 
plead  for  him,  giving  his  words  tenfold  power. 

But  once  more  the  earnest  and  better  part,  the  indefinable  some 
thing  called  conscience  that  in  some  women  will  rise  above  even  the 
scorching  fire  of  love,  awakened  her  to  her  danger. 

"  Listen,  Malcolm."  She  spoke  with  difficulty  ;  those  dewy, 
trembling  lips,  even  now  burning  with  his  last  kiss,  proving  but  poor 
allies  in  her  hour  of  need.  "  I  love  you.  You  cannot  doubt  it." 
And  again  her  glorious  eyes  looked  into  his.  "  I  love  you  ;  but  I  can 
not,  I  never  will,  make  a  Mormon  marriage.  You  were  born  here  : 
I  was  born  in  the  far  North  beyond  the  seas,  where  one  woman  suffices 
to  fill  the  measure  of  one  man's  life.  I  came  here  a  child,  but  each 
year  I  live  makes  me  feel  the  horrors  of  this  belief.  Friendless, 
except  my  grandfather,  I  cannot  escape.  Nor  would  I  escape  if  I 
could,  and  leave  him,  in  his  old  age,  alone.  Were  I  not  sure  I  could 
trust  you,  I  would  not  dare  speak  thus  my  thoughts  of  this  land's 
religion.  But  while  I  must  refuse  your  love,  that  my  heart,  alas  ! 
returns  tenfold,  it  will  comfort  me  all  my  life  to  know  that  you  did 
love  me." 

Her  voice  died  out.  The  birds  were  still.  The  sun  was  hidden 
by  the  mountains.  The  chilly  evening  mist  of  the  brightest  of  spring 
days  was  covering  the  picture  that  had  so  lately  glowed  with  warmth 
and  light. 

The  chill  seemed  to  strike  to  the  girl's  heart.     She  shivered   as, 


SPRING-TIME.  5 

with   bended    head,  she   turned   to   leave   the   place  where   love   and 
conviction  had  fought  the  hard  fight. 

Her  movement  awakened  him  into  action. 

"  No  :  by  Heaven,  you  shall  not  leave  me ! "  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  catching  her  in  such  a  close,  strong  clasp,  that,  had  she  loved 
him  less,  she  would  have  cried  out  with  pain,  as,  drawing  her  face  to 
his,  he  covered  it  with  kisses. 

After  the  first  bewilderment  and — must  it  be  written?  —  heart's 
joy  at  being  again  thus  close  to  him,  she  struggled  to  free  herself. 

Then  this  other  Faust,  finding  the  Marguerite  he  desired  too 
strong,  too  pure,  to  be  easily  won,  and  feeling  thus  near  to  him  her 
lovely  form,  held  as  naught  any  sacrifice  that  would  win  her. 

"  Listen,  cruel  girl ! "  he  said,  while  his  eyes  and  lips  feasted  on  her 
sweetness.  "  For  your  sake  I  will  forswear  the  faith  in  which  I  was 
raised.  I  will  proclaim  my  father  an  adulterer,  my  mother  a  victim. 
Do  you  become  my  wife,  and  your  own  grandfather  shall  marry  us 
fast  and  strong.  He  is  a  minister  of  your  faith.  Let  him  bind  us, 
that  neither  heaven  nor  hell  can  separate  you  from  me.  I  will  be  true 
to  you,  so  help  me  God  !  faithful  to  you,  and  to  you  alone." 

The  moon  rose  over  the  mountain-tops,  its  light  falling  like  a 
blessing  on  the  pair.  She  rested  in  his  arms,  trembling,  happy,  beau 
tiful.  Their  eyes  drank  love  from  each  other.  There  was  no  need 
of  speech.  It  was  a  moment  of  supreme  joy. 

Could  some  power  have  stricken  them  dead,  as  they  stood  thus 
clasped  together,  they  would  have  gone  down  to  all  eternity  a  realiza 
tion  of  joy  and  love. 

But  lives  must  be  lived,  sorrows  borne,  ills  atoned ;  and  the 
happinesses  are  but  as  brief  moments. 

Shine  on  them,  O  moon !  Move  slower  in  your  course,  that  the 
joy  may  endure  but  a  little  longer. 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER     II. 

MATTHEW. 

ATTER,  patter,  patter  !  A  handful  of  gravel  on  her 
window  awakened  Christine  from  dreams  of  love  and 
happiness.  Springing  from  her  bed,  she  hastened  to 
throw  open  the  casement,  and  smiled  down  on  her 
grandfather. 

"  Good-morning,  father." 

"  And  to  you,  my  child,  God's  blessing.  But 
hurry  down,  my  birdling.  See,  the  sun  has  kissed 
all  the  dew  from  the  flowers,  and  you  are  a  laggard." 
"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  moment."  Then,  closing 
the  casement,  she  made  a  hurried  toilet ;  while  the 
old  man  walked  around  the  garden,  the  smile  still  on  his  face  with 
which  he  had  greeted  his  grandchild. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  with  clear-cut  features,  blue  eyes,  and  white 
hair  falling  on  his  shoulders.  He  had  a  noble  face  and  a  kindly 
expression.  It  was  a  face  that  a  beggar,  in  appealing  for  help,  would 
have  picked  out  of  a  crowd. 

Tender  and  loving  to  every  thing,  he  was  even  now  most  carefully 
avoiding  a  little  butterfly  that  had  been  hurt,  and  lay  fluttering  on 
the  path. 

"  Poor  wee  creature ! "  he  said,  as  he  picked  it  up,  and  gently  put 
it  safe  among  the  flowers.  "  Thou  hast  not  many  moments  more  of 
life,  but  those  shall  be  undisturbed." 


MATTHEW.  7 

While  he  was  still  watching  it  pitifully,  his  granddaughter  stole 
up  behind  him,  and  slipped  her  hand  in  his  arm. 

Turning,  he  folded  her  to  his  heart,  and,  with  eyes  lifted  to  heaven, 
silently  prayed  for  his  darling,  then  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and 
told  her  the  day  was  brighter  since  she  was  with  him. 

It  was  with  affection  like  this  Christine's  life  had  been  blessed. 
She  was  the  only  child  of  an  only  son,  —  a  sailor,  who,  just  before  her 
birth,  had  been  lost  at  sea,  near  the  bleak  shore  of  his  native  Nor 
way.  His  young  wife  soon  followed,  seeking  her  husband  in  that 
land  where  parting  and  sorrow  are  no  more. 

Thus,  in  his  old  age,  Matthew  Kleigwald  found  himself  left  alone 
with  a  baby,  who  cooed  and  smiled  at  him  as  she  lay  in  his  arms. 

Father,  mother,  nurse,  every  thing  to  the  little  girl,  who  daily 
grew  more  and  more  into  his  life  and  heart.  In  her  childhood  they 
were  playmates  ;  and,  as  she  older  grew,  her  grandfather  was  her  sole 
teacher.  An  earnest  nature,  enthusiastic  and  religious,  he  lived  a  life 
quite  different  from  the  ordinary  Scandinavian  peasant. 

A  life  of  arduous  toil,  and  yet  about  it  a  certain  poetry  that  made 
him  and  his  Christine  seem  characters  out  of  some  idyl.  Hard  work 
ing  himself,  he  dreaded,  as  he  kissed  the  slender  fingers  of  his  grand 
child,  and  looked  into  her  sensitive  face,  to  think  how  toil  would 
affect  the  life  he  was  shielding.  And  yet,  what  else  could  he  dare 
hope  ?  For  with  short  summers,  and  the  long,  cold  winters,  scanty 
crops  and  arid  land,  he  could  scarcely  now  keep  the  wolf  from  the 
door.  While  thinking  of  his  darling  day  by  day,  and  growing  more 
and  more  hopeless  of  her  future,  there  came  to  this  remote  village  a 
Mormon  missionary,  —  a  man  of  fiery  eloquence,  who  taught  of  love, 
faith,  and  hope  ;  making  them  seem  practical  realities  as  he  told  of 
the  colony  of  saints  beyond  the  seas,  who,  with  fertile  lands  for 
endowing  their  toil-worn  brothers,  stood,  arms  open,  ready  to  fold 
them  into  their  blessed  community. 


8 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


No  word  was  said  of  polygamy,  or  the  many  demands  and  taxes 
that  would  be  laid  upon  the  converts.  Only  love,  plenty,  and  peace 
were  preached  to  men,  who,  year  after  year,  found  the  hardest  labor  but 
sufficed  to  keep  their  little  ones  from  starving. 

Among  the  first  to  catch  the  fever  was  Matthew.  He  gazed  at 
the  wild  mountains,  so  dear  to  him,  that  had  looked  down  on  all  of  his 

life,  and  felt  he  could  not 
leave  them.  Then,  turning 
to  his  Christine,  and  see 
ing  for  her  only  toilsome 
years,  there  arose  a  long 
ing  to  reach  that  land  of 
plenty. 

Then,  too,  the  religious 
element  in  his  nature  was 
awakened  to  wildest  enthusi 
asm,  when  one  evening,  after 
preaching  to  the  listening 
multitude,  the  missionary, 
John  Smith,  called  out,  in  a 
voice  as  tuneful  as  some 
sweet  instrument,  — 

"  Bring  to  me  the  sick, 
that  I  may  give  them  relief  by  laying  on  these  hands  that  the  Lord 
has  blessed." 

"  Take  my  child,  and  ease  his  pain,"  cried  a  woman's  voice. 
The   crowd   parted  ;   and,  bearing   in   her  arms   a   half-grown  boy 
moaning  with  rheumatic  fever,  the  mother  advanced. 

Kneeling  beside  the  sufferer,  while  his  eyes  burned  like  fire,  John 
Smith  passed  his  hands  rapidly  and  frequently  over  the  boy's  head, 
throat,  and  body,  until  gradually  the  moaning  ceased  ;  and  the  mother, 


THE    MORMON    MISSIONARY. 


MATTHEW.  9 

with  grateful  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  looked  on  her  child 
peacefully  asleep. 

Half  fearful  of  awakening  him,  she  grasped  the  preacher's  hands, 
and  covered  them  with  kisses,  while  she  whispered  words  of  deepest 
thanks. 

"  Speak  aloud  !  "  cried  John  Smith,  whose  voice  rang  out  like 
clarion.  "  His  sleep  is  God's  gift.  Man's  voice  cannot  disturb  it. 
He  will  awaken  cured !  And  now,  O  ye  men  of  stone  !  with  this 
testimony  to  my  words  as  a  reproach  to  ye,  why  will  ye  longer  delay  ? 
Come  to  the  land  that  holds  plenty  for  ye !  Come  to  the  brothers 
whose  arms  are  held  out  to  ye !  Come  to  God's  city,  where  the  saints 
are  your  friends,  and  Heaven's  peace  is  waiting  for  ye  !  " 

Hundreds  rushed  up  to  sign  their  names  to  the  roll  of  the  elect, 
among  the  others  Matthew  Kleigwald. 

Then  came  a  hurried  gathering  together  of  household  goods,  a 
quick  sale  of  houses  and  lands,  —  for  Smith  was  too  capable  a  mis 
sionary  to  let  enthusiasm  grow  old,  —  and,  before  Matthew  had  fairly 
weighed  the  consequences,  he  found  himself  parting  from  his  home  and 
fatherland,  and,  advanced  in  years,  going  to  a  foreign  country. 

When  the  last  "good-by"  was  spoken  at  the  little  graveyard,  and 
Matthew  knelt  to  kiss  the  earth  that  covered  the  dear  young  wife  he  had 
lost  in  the  first  year  of  their  marriage,  only  God  knew  his  bitter  pain. 

Almost  fainting,  he  felt  he  could  not  live  away  from  his  beloved 
surroundings ;  but,  raising  his  eyes,  he  saw  the  pale  face  of  Christine, 
who  was  kneeling  by  her  mother's  grave.  Rising,  he  took  her  in 
his  arms. 

"  For  your  sake,  my  child,  I  leave  the  land  of  my  birth.  The 
spirits  of  those  we  love  will  be  as  near  us  there  as  here.  Thou,  my 
Christine,  wilt  have  a  home  of  plenty.  And,  when  God  shall  call 
me  to  himself,  I  can  close  my  eyes  in  peace,  knowing  my  birdling  is 
safe  from  the  cutting  blast  of  poverty." 


10  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Then  they  walked  quietly  and  sadly  to  the  little  church,  where  the 
peasants  were  assembled  to  say  farewell  to  Matthew,  who  had  been 
their  preacher  for  many  years.  Without  pay,  he  had  read  the  bap 
tism,  marriage,  and  burial  services  for  them,  teaching  them  as  best  he 
could.  And  now  he  was  about  to  leave  them !  Tears  and  blessings 
fell  around  him.  Some  old  peasants  threw  their  arms  about  him,  and 
wished  him  "  God-speed  "  in  the  new  land  where  they  were  too  infirm 
to  follow  him.  The  younger  men  crowded  near,  and  said,  when  he 
wrote  for  them  to  start,  they  would  join  him  in  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Being  thus  a  man  of  influence  in  his  village,  Smith  treated  Matthew 
with  especial  consideration,  lessening  for  him,  as  well  as  he  could, 
some  of  the  discomforts  of  the  long  journey. 

After  a  quick  voyage  the  converts  landed  in  New  York.  The 
authorities  of  the  city,  and  the  officials  sworn  to  protect  the  rights  of 
helplessness  and  ignorance,  although  aware  of  the  arrival  of  Mormon 
converts,  remained  perfectly  quiescent.  And  the  "Land  of  the  Free," 
that  had  called  forth  a  deluge  of  blood  to  wash  away  that  other 
slavery,  quietly  smiled  while  hundreds  were  hurried  across  her  broad 
acres  into  a  moral  slavery  whose  existence  must  ever  dim  the  bright 
stars  of  her  banner. 

Every  thing  went  smoothly.  At  the  appointed  place  Mormon 
authorities  met  the  emigrants  with  deeds  for  lands,  and  took  from 
them  bonds  for  the  payment  thereof,  and  also  of  interest  moneys  that 
would  fall  due.  They  were  apportioned  to  different  localities.  Being 
accustomed  to  hard  work  and  frugality,  they  would  have  been  useful 
citizens  anywhere.  For  themselves,  finding  the  land  easy  of  cultiva 
tion,  they  felt  few  repinings.  Most  of  the  men  took  quietly  and  con 
tentedly  to  polygamy.  Self-indulgence  is  always  easy  to  inferior 
natures,  and  men  are  not  all  superior.  As  for  the  women  in  this 
land,  poor  slaves  !  they  had  no  hearing. 

Their  heart-aches,  their  repinings,  are  among  the  untold  agonies  of 


MATTHEW.  II 

this  troublous  world.  And  yet,  perchance,  these  silently  endured 
griefs  may  spring  into  vigorous,  avenging  life. 

Matthew's  pure  soul  was  shocked  at  the  moral  condition  of  this 
New  Jerusalem  within  whose  strong  walls  he  had  brought  his  grand 
child. 

It  was  easy  to  enter,  but  how  to  escape  ? 

His  little  money  all  spent  for  lands,  which  yet  he  only  dared  call 
his  as  long  as  he  was  able  to  pay  the  interest  moneys  and  the  tithing 
moneys,  and  outwardly,  in  a  measure,  conform  to  Mormon  rules.  For, 
looking  at  his  deeds,  he  found  himself  so  bound  that  there  was  noth 
ing  else  possible  except  to  stay  and  work,  and  hope,  with  favorable 
crops,  to  raise  and  save  enough  to  take  Christine  away  from  the  coun 
try  he  had  sacrificed  so  much  to  gain.  His  age  protected  him,  and 
Christine's  youth  was  in  her  favor.  Then,  too,  having  more  intellect 
uality  than  physical  beauty,  she  did  not  seem  so  much  desired  by  the 
amorous  Mormon.  And  John  Smith  befriended  him.  Perhaps  a 
twinge  of  his  almost  inane  conscience  at  deceiving  so  noble  a  man, 
made  him  protect  Christine  from  the  hasty  Mormon  marriages  of 
which  young  girls,  willing  or  unwilling,  were  made  the  victims. 

Through  his  influence,  Matthew  and  his  child  were  sent  from  Salt 

Lake  to  the  interior  town  of  G ,  where,  the  land  apportioned  to  the 

old  man  being  really  fertile,  and,  as  she  grew  older,  having  no  demands 
for  Christine  in  marriage,  they  settled  down  into  a  peaceful,  quiet  life. 
Loving  each  other,  they  could  easily  make  a  home  together  ;  and, 
known  as  the  proteges  of  John  Smith,  they  escaped  many  annoy 
ances. 

Ten  years  had  passed,  and  Christine  was  twenty-four.  Her  face 
and  form,  matured  into  too  noble  a  beauty  to  attract  the  average 
Mormon,  must  awaken,  sooner  or  later,  strong  love  in  some  man. 

Until  a  few  months  before,  that  man  did  not  seem  forthcoming ; 
and  Matthew,  proud  and  happy  in  the  loveliness  of  his  child,  was  lulled 


12  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

into  content  and  peace.  He  led  a  useful  life,  helpful  to  all  around 
him,  trying  to  show  to  sorrow-darkened  eyes,  that,  even  when  in 
justice  is  permitted,  there  is  a  merciful  and  just  God  who  looks  down 
on  all. 

It  is  a  hard  doctrine  to  believe  when  hearts  are  breaking  ;  but, 
like  a  compass  on  a  stormy  sea,  it  is  all  poor  humanity  has  to  steer  by. 

Then,  Matthew,  having  prospered,  and  spending  little  for  his  own 
and  Christine's  simple  needs,  was  able  to  do  many  kindnesses  for  the 
unhappy,  until,  between  him  and  his  poorer  neighbors,  there  had 
sprung  up,  in  some  instances,  true  affection.  Near  him  always,  as  his 
twin  spirit,  was  his  Christine,  sharing  every  labor  of  love  and  mercy. 

Intense  and  poetic  by  nature,  yet  Christine  was  happy  in  this 
useful  life,  nor  seemed  to  long  for  that  dearer  companionship  so  need 
ful  to  most  maidens. 

The  light  of  her  grandfather's  life,  and  the  friend  of  those  who 
needed  her,  the  girl  seemed  to  wish  for  nothing  more. 

But  there  came  an  awakening  from  the  maiden's  peace. 

O  peace  !  Beautiful  peace  !  Like  some  white-winged  dove,  once 
let  thee  fly  out  of  our  souls,  and  never  more  canst  thou  be  enticed 
back  again ! 

John  Smith,  who  never  lost  his  interest  in  Matthew,  and  remem 
bered  Christine  as  a  fair  girl,  with  fancies  sweet  as  spring-flowers,  had 
occasionally  visited  them.  The  last  time  he  came,  he  brought  his 
nephew,  Malcolm  Smith,  a  handsome  young  fellow,  light-hearted,  and 
merry  of  disposition.  He  left  him  to  spend  some  months  with 
Matthew,  "  To  improve  his  ideas  of  farming,"  he  said.  But,  if  Matthew 
had  noticed  his  earnest  look  at  Christine  the  evening  before  depar 
ture,  he  might  have  imagined  another  motive. 

Who  could  not  foretell  the  result  of  two  young  and  unfilled  hearts 
brought  thus  in  close  communion  ?  Nature,  too,  in  her  early  spring 
time,  each  day  blossoming  into  fresh  loveliness.  And  so,  as  they 


MATTHEW.  13 

wandered  forth  together  in  these  lovely  spring  days,  their  hearts  were 
blossoming  into  life's  summer ;  Malcolm  listening  while  Christine 
talked,  telling  sometimes  of  her  own  imaginings,  sometimes  bits  of 
her  neighbor's  history ;  and  every  thing  she  spoke,  so  full  of  beauty 
and  poetry. 

To  some  is  given  the  peculiar  power  of  earnest  and  forcible  expres 
sion.  It  was  thus  with  Christine.  Listening  to  her,  being  so  con 
stantly  with  her,  Malcolm  seemed  to  grow  in  intelligence,  and  lose 
somewhat  the  commonplace  in  his  nature.  Her  aspirations  wakened 
echoes  in  his  soul ;  and,  long  before  he  knew  he  loved  her,  he  felt 
himself  a  better  man  through  her  influence. 

To  her,  love  came  very  soon.  And  yet  she  knew  it  not  as  love. 
She  only  knew,  that,  to  be  near  him  was  happiness.  To  touch  his 
hand,  even  by  accident,  gave  her  exquisite  pleasure.  And  so  strong 
was  this  physical  influence,  that,  before  she  heard  his  voice  or  step, 
she  would  know  he  was  approaching  by  this  same  sweet  thrill. 

She  had  not  desired  marriage,  since  to  her  a  Mormon  marriage 
was  impossible.  And  she  did  not  imagine  the  possibility  of  other  in 
this  land.  So  she  had  grown  to  hold  herself  apart  from  any  realiza 
tion  of  a  dual  life.  Not  longing  for  it  until  of  late,  since  Malcolm 
came,  a  certain  dreaminess  had  fallen  upon  her. 

The  days  passed ;  each  one  budding  into  fresh  spring  beauty, 
and  each  one  bringing  the  two  hearts  closer  and  closer.  They  did 
not  question  each  other  or  themselves.  Only  they  saw  every  object 
fairer  because  of  the  other  eyes  that  were  looking  at  it ;  and  in  the 
slightest  accident  they  would  find  cause  for  mirth,  because  of  the 
other  laughter  that  would  ring  out  in  unison. 

The  moon  arose  in  her  beauty  to  add  fresh  loveliness  to  an  exist 
ence  that,  until  her  coming,  did  not  seem  to  lack  any  thing.  And 
as  Malcolm  would  sit  gazing  on  Christine's  sweet  face,  listening  to 
her  pure,  rich  voice  as  she  sang  old  ditties  to  her  grandfather,  he 


14  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

could  not  think  of  a  life  without  her.  He  would  feel  a  frantic  desire 
to  grasp  the  slender  hand  that  lay  in  the  old  man's,  and  set  it  on  fire 
with  the  kisses  that  were  burning  his  lips,  and  to  wake  from  its  holy 
calm  the  face*  uplifted  to  the  moon's  rays. 

So  the  world  stood  with  them  when  a  letter  came  from  John 
Smith,  recalling  Malcolm  to  Salt  Lake. 

He  was  in  the  orchard  reading  it,  and  feeling  his  heart  like  a 
millstone  within  his  breast,  when  the  light  tread  of  the  feet  he  loved 
aroused  him  from  his  reverie. 

Christine  was  coming  towards  him.  She  was  clad  in  drapery  of  a 
soft  gray  color,  her  face  all  aglow,  and  the  beautiful  eyes,  like  stars, 
shining  on  his  soul.  In  her  hand,  a  red  rose.  The  sweet  lips  parted 
with  smiles,  as  if  the  words  already  had  passed  to  him. 

"  It  is  the  first  of  the  season.  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?  Will  you 
have  it  ?  " 

Springing  to  his  feet,  he  took  it,  and  kissed  it  with  the  passion  she 
had  called  forth. 

Her  eyes  grew  misty,  a  deep  flush  rose  to  her  cheeks ;  and,  like  a 
charmed  bird,  she  stirred  not. 

The  blue  sky  shone  through  the  apple-blossoms,  and  the  girl's 
lovely,  changeful  face  seemed  a  part  and  parcel  of  the  exquisite 
spring-time. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  Going  away  !  "  Did  she  speak  ?  The  words  sounded  but  as  the 
echoes  of  his  own. 

Only  that  the  large  eyes  dilated,  and  the  sensitive  face  paled  to 
ashen  white,  Malcolm  would  scarcely  have  thought  she  had  heard 
him,  so  still  she  stood.  Then,  turning  to  leave  him,  she  would  have 
fallen,  so  faint  she  grew,  had  not  his  strong  arm  upheld  her ;  and, 
drawing  her  to  his  breast,  he  poured  forth  the  love  that  burned  within 
his  heart. 


MATTHEW.  15 

For  the  time  she  seemed  of  all  earth  the  only  one  he  loved.  And 
how  the  story  of  his  love  prospered,  we  have  already  heard. 

They  stood  under  the  apple-blossoms,  wrapped  in  each  other's 
arms,  until,  Matthew's  voice  calling  out  for  his  child,  they  bade 
"  good-by  "  to  those  moments  of  delight  ;  and  Christine  had  her  first 
secret. 

All  during  her  songs  her  heart  kept  throbbing  with  joy,  while  the 
slender  hand  rested  in  the  gentle  clasp  of  her  grandfather's.  Then 
came  the  hour  of  prayer,  the  good-night ;  and  then  she  hastened  to 
her  room,  where,  leaning  out  of  her  window,  she  smiled  at  the  moon 
that  had  looked  down  on  her  happiness. 

Until  the  dawn  was  breaking  she  sat  thinking,  and  trembling  at 
the  great  joy  within  her,  and  then,  throwing  herself  on  her  bed,  fell 
asleep  while  smiling. 

So  it  was  that  the  morning  sunlight  peeped  in,  and  found  her  still 
in  dreamland,  and  the  call  from  the  dear  grandfather  was  needed  to 
awaken  her. 

And  now,  near  him,  with  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  her  secret 
trembling  on  her  lips,  she  stood  like  a  guilty  thing,  until  Matthew, 
wondering  at  her  silence,  said,  — 

"  What  ails  my  birdling  ?  " 

"  O  grandfather,  I  am  so  happy  !  Malcolm  loves  me,  and,  for  my 
sake,  will  have  a  Christian  wedding.  For  my  sake  he  will  hold 
to  the  laws  of  our  church,  and  have  no  other  wife  than  your  own 
Christine." 

Why  is  it  that  the  happiness  of  some  makes  the  misery  of  those 
that  love  them  ? 

Looking  into  the  face  that  made  his  world,  Matthew  felt  the  morn 
ing  grow  black,  and  his  heart  most  heavy.  Like  a  great  cloud-burst, 
these  tender  words  from  his  Christine  seemed  to  have  obliterated  what 
was  most  lovely  in  his  life.  Keeping  the  smile  on  his  face  needed  a 


1 6  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

greater  effort  than  he  would  have  felt  to  walk  to  his  death.  And 
yet  he  made  the  effort,  that  he  might  not  mar  one  atom  of  her  hap 
piness. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  him,  my  darling  ?     Are  you  sure  of  him  ?  " 

"As  of  my  own  soul.  Nay,  more.  And  I  love  him,  I  love  him,  as 
he  loves  me." 

The  argument  was  made,  the  case  won.  And  the  old  man,  who 
felt  his  priceless  treasure  taken  from  him,  would  have  lain  down  his 
life  to  keep  her  lover  true,  from  the  moment  when,  avowing  her  own 
love,  Christine  had  thrown  herself  upon  the  faithful  breast  that  had 
ever  given  her  readiest  sympathy. 

"  Lift  up  thy  face,  my  darling,"  he  said,  tenderly  raising  her,  and 
kissing  the  dear  eyes.  "  If  thy  Malcolm  be  a  true  lover,  he  shall 
have  my  child,  and  all  my  earthly  goods.  But  what  will  he  do  ?  And 
where  does  he  wish  to  live  ?  " 

"  He  will  tell  you,"  answered  Christine :  then,  blushing,  she  drew 
down  the  dear  father-face,  and  whispered,  "  He  is  even  now  coming." 

Turning,  Matthew  saw  the  lover  of  his  child.  With  the  sunlight 
full  upon  him,  his  face  radiant  with  the  brightness  of  youth  and 
beauty,  he  looked  a  man  to  be  loved  and  trusted.  So  Matthew, 
suppressing  a  sigh,  held  out  his  hand. 

Malcolm,  grasping  it,  said,  — 

"  Christine  has  told  you.  Give  her  to  me  ;  and,  as  we  both  believe 
in  a  God,  I  will  be  true  and  faithful  to  her." 

"Darling,"  said  Matthew,  "go,  see  the  breakfast  is  made  ready, 
while  I  speak  with  Malcolm." 

She  left  them  with  one  pleading  look  that  fell  on  her  grandfather's 
heart. 

For  a  full  half-hour  they  paced  up  and  down  the  garden-walk, 
talking  earnestly.  Christine  watched  them  with  eager  eyes.  Then 
she  saw  her  grandfather  extend  his  hand,  saw  Malcolm  fall  on  his 


MATTHEW.  17 

knees,  and  kiss  it  reverently,  while  the  old  man,  placing  his  other 
hand  on  the  beautiful  young  head  bowed  before  him,  seemed  praying 
a  blessing  on  it. 

And  Christine  knew  all  was  well  for  her. 


SHE   SAW   MALCOLM    FALL   ON    HIS    KNEES. 


i8 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    III. 

TABITHA'S  GARDEN. 

'ALCOLM  had  gone.  After  much  consultation,  and 
many  objections  on  the  young  man's  part,  Matthew's 
judgment  had  prevailed  ;  and  Malcolm  was  to  seek 
his  uncle,  telling  him  every  thing,  even  the  resolu 
tion  to  have  but  one  wife,  before  the  marriage  would 
be  consummated. 

Malcolm  gone,  and  the  old  life  to  be  taken  up 
again  !  The  life  and  duties,  so  happy  and  blessed  only 
a  few  short  months  ago,  how  barren  and  irksome  now ! 
But,  spite  of  aching  heart  and  wakeful  nights,  Christine 
kept  her  eyes  bright,  and  her  smile  ever  ready  for  the  dear 
grandfather  whose  life  was  bound  up  in  hers.  His  tender  love  never 
guessed  of  the  many  anxious  hours  passed  by  the  girl,  sitting  at  her 
window,  watching  the  road  Malcolm  had  taken  when  he  parted 
with  her. 

Love  is  ever  fearful,  is  ever  anxious,  creating  dangers  and  troubles 
for  the  beloved  absent  one.  In  the  stillness  of  the  night,  Christine 
would  start  trembling  from  her  bed,  thinking,  perchance,  Malcolm  was 
ill,  or  in  danger.  It  was  poor  comfort  to  know  he  was  young  and 
strong.  She  longed  to  encircle  him  with  her  love,  to  be  near  him. 

"  Life  is  so  uncertain,"  she  would  murmur.  "  Perchance  we  may 
not  meet  again." 

The  ominous  words  echoed  and  re-echoed  in 


"  Not  meet  again  !  " 


TABITHA'S   GARDEN.  19 

her  heart,  until,  falling  on  her  knees,  with  arms  outstretched  in  the 
darkness,  she  would  cry  in  bitter  pain,  "  Not  that,  O  God !  not  that. 
If  it  be  not  for  his  happiness  to  wed  me,  fill  his  days  with  blessings, 
and  make  him  forget  me.  But,  oh,  let  me  once  more  gaze  on  that 
beautiful  face !  Let  me  once  more  look  into  those  eyes  that  I  love, 
that  I  love  !  "  And  the  proud,  tender,  and  lovely  Christine  would 
wet  the  floor  with  her  tears,  while  her  grandfather  slept  peacefully. 

His  heart,  too,  had  its  care.  But  age  mellows  and  softens  the 
intensity,  if  not  the  tenderness,  of  feeling.  And  praying  for  his 
child,  thinking  of  her  as  the  honored  wife  of  the  nephew  of  John 
Smith,  he  grew  calm  in  the  belief  of  her  happy  future.  He  no  longer 
dreaded  the  day  when  he  must  leave  her,  unprotected,  in  a  land 
where  her  sex,  and  the  little  property  she  would  inherit,  would  only 
the  surer  make  her  the  prey  to  rapacity. 

After  a  few  days,  there  came  for  Christine  a  letter  from  Malcolm. 
Her  first  love-letter  !  How  wonderful  it  seemed  to  her,  each  word 
burning  itself  on  her  memory. 

SALT  LAKE,  April  — . 

MY  DEAREST,  —  I  arrived  safe  and  well,  filled  with  loving  thoughts  of  you.  I 
seem  to  see  your  face  forever  before  me,  and  hear  your  dear  voice  in  every  sound. 
So  full  is  my  heart  of  you,  that  I  find  myself  constantly  doing  just  the  things  I 
think  you  would  do.  I  smile  at  every  little  child,  and  have  made  one  friend  since 
my  return,  —  a  cripple-boy  who  sells  papers,  and,  in  some  measure,  reminds  me  of 
your  little  favorite.  I  have  seen  him  at  his  stand  for  many  months,  but  did  not  go 
out  of  my  way  to  brighten  his  life,  until  taught  by  your  sweet  example.  When  you 
are  mine  forever,  I  will  grow  into  a  nobler  manhood  through  you.  I  have  seen  my 
uncle,  and  talked  with  him  about  our  future.  He  does  not  oppose  my  determination. 
He  smiles  when  I  speak  of  you,  and  says,  "  Time  is  a  moderator  of  strong  affection.'' 
But  he  could  not  even  fancy  this  possible  had  he  looked,  as  I  have,  upon  your 
sweet  perfections.  Present  my  deepest  respect  to  your  grandfather,  and  believe  me, 
for  all  time  and  eternity, 

Yours,  and  yours  only, 

MALCOLM   SMITH. 


20  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Write  soon.  Oh  for  one  glimpse  of  the  old  apple-tree,  with  you  standing  under 
it !  Just  for  one  look  of  those  tender  eyes,  one  kiss  of  those  sweetest  lips !  Fare 
well.  I  dare  not  even  think  of  this,  or  I  would  break  my  promise  to  Matthew  and 
my  uncle,  and,  forgetting  that  cruel  months  must  pass  before  I  again  behold  you, 
hasten  to  your  side,  and  clasp  you  to  this  heart  that  is  longing  for  you. 

Under  the  very  tree  where  he  had  told  his  love,  Christine  was 
reading  his  letter.  The  blossom-leaves  fell  around  her  in  showers  of 
fragrance  as  the  wind  gently  stirred  the  branches.  Over  and  over 
again  she  read  the  sweet  words,  caressing,  as  if  a  living  thing,  the 
bit  of  paper  that  had  brought  her  such  joy.  To  be  assured  he  loved 
her  and  longed  for  her,  seemed  to  take  the  bitterness  from  her  pain 
at  this  separation.  While  she  was  still  reading,  her  grandfather  came 
to  join  her.  She  sprang  up,  and,  handing  him  the  treasured  letter, 
said,  — 

"  Father,  read  what  he  says,  and  I  will  go  to  Tabitha's  for  an  hour. 
I've  not  been  there  for  more  than  a  week,  and  I  fancy  little  Christie 
is  wishing  for  me." 

"  Go,  my  child  :  I  will  meet  you.  We  can  walk  home  in  the  twi 
light.  How  lovely  the  days  are  !  To  me  the  spring  was  never  so 
beautiful  or  seemed  so  peaceful  as  now." 

The  old  man  looked  up  to  the  blue  sky  through  orchard-trees 
planted  and  fostered  by  him,  glanced  at  his  little  cottage,  gleaming 
fresh  and  white  amid  its  garden  of  sweet  plants,  and  then  back  at 
the  face  of  his  Christine,  glowing  with  the  tender  beauty  of  a  pure 
girl's  first  love. 

Truly,  his  "  lines  seemed  cast  in  pleasant  places."  And  blessed 
peace,  shone  in  his  eyes  raised  in  thankful  prayer. 

It  was  so  Christine  saw  him,  as  she  turned  to  throw  him  a  kiss 
before  the  trees  would  hide  her  from  him.  He  waved  his  hand  in 
answer,  and  stood  where  she  had  left  him.  He  was  thinking  of  her, 
praying  for  her,  ere  he  read  the  letter  open  in  his  hand. 


TABITHA'S   GARDEN. 


21 


Christine,  with  happy  smiles  curving  her  lips  into  new  beauty, 
hurried  on  to  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  where  stood  a  small  cabin 
surrounded  by  a  large  and  flourishing  garden.  In  the  cabin  lived 
Tabitha  White  and  her  three  children.  The  garden  was  so  large  that 
it  seemed  hardly  possible  it  was  tended 
only  by  one  woman  and  a  girl.  Yet 
so  it  was  ;  for  Christie,  poor  little 
man,  crippled  from  his  birth, 
could  not  help.  And  what  with 
small  profits,  and  paying  tithes, 
their  gains  were  so  little  that 
Martin,  the  eldest,  had  to  seek 
more  arduous  labor  to  supply 
even  the  few  needs  of 
this  frugal  household. 
Where  was  the  head  of 
this  family,  the  father  of 
these  children  ?  Dead  ? 
No.  In  the  finest  house 
of  the  whole  county, 
surrounded  by  the  com 
forts  and  luxuries  of 
wealth,  lived  the  man 
who  was  responsible 
for  the  lives  of  these 
children,  and  the  husband  of  the  toil-worn  woman  standing  at  the 
cabin-door.  First  smiling  a  welcome  on  Christine,  and  then  turning 
her  face,  she  called  in  the  house,  — 

"  Christie,  here  is  a  friend  come  to  see  you." 

The  sound  of  crutches  on  the  wooden  floor  ;  and,  a  moment  later, 
framed  in  the  doorway,  stood  a  child  of  eight  years  or  more,  with  a 


"CHRISTINE  WAS  READING  HIS  LETTER." 


22  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

face  beautiful  as  an  angel's,  but  two  useless  little  legs,  that  had  never 
been  strong  enough  to  support  the  frail  body. 

"  Christine  !  "  His  sweet  voice  trembled  ;  and,  dropping  the 
crutches,  the  child  threw  his  arms  around  her  neck,  hiding  the  great, 
wistful  eyes  on  her  breast  as  she  stooped  to  greet  him. 

The  poor,  thin  arms  did  not  seem  capable  of  the  strength  with 
which  he  clung  to  her,  as  he  half  sobbed,  — 

"  I  have  looked  for  you  each  day  and  hour.  And  yet  the  sun  has 
said  good-night  ten  times  since  last  you  came." 

Christine,  filled  with  self-reproach,  soothed  the  child  with  tender 
words  and  caresses,  until  gradually  the  face  left  its  hiding-place,  and 
the  large  gray  eyes,  with  dilating  pupils,  were  fixed  on  hers  in  half- 
adoring  love. 

Sitting  on  the  door-step,  holding  Christie,  talking  to  Mrs.  White, 
and  answering,  every  now  and  then,  some  question  from  a  girl's  voice 
inside  the  cabin,  Christine  felt  more  peace  than  she  had  known  since 
Malcolm  left. 

"Come,  Patience,"  said  Tabitha  White,  calling  to  her  daughter. 
"  Rest  for  a  while.  Martin  will  soon  be  home  for  his  supper,  and 
Christine  may  not  be  able  to  spare  us  many  moments." 

"  What,  mother  !  you  counsel  self-indulgence  ?  "  And  the  owner 
of  the  fresh  young  voice  came  to  the  doorway,  adding  a  rosy,  dimpled 
face,  framed  in  sunny  hair,  to  the  group  that  the  setting  sun  was 
flushing  with  his  parting  glory. 

A  sweet,  girlish  face  and  form.  One  of  those  sunny  creatures  who 
seem  born  for  gladness.  But  her  dimpled  hands  did  heavy  work,  and 
even  now  were  busying  themselves  trying  to  furbish  an  old  tin  pan 
into  brightness. 

She  sat  down  on  the  floor,  her  hand  keeping  on  with  its  work  as 
she  said,  — 

"  It  is  good   to  see   you,  Christine.     Urged  by  Christie,  I  would 


TASITHA'S   GARDEN.  23 

have  run  down  to  your  place,  only  this  dear  old  mother  of  mine  has 
so  much  to  do,  she  cannot  easily  spare  even  these  lazy  fingers." 

Tabitha  caught  the  pretty  hand,  as  Patience  was  speaking,  and 
held  it  for  a  moment  in  her  own.  How  white  and  soft  it  looked  in 
her  brown  one  !  Gently  pressing  it,  she  let  it  go. 

"  It  is  not  lazy  or  idle,  but  does  its  full  share,  in  spite  of  its 
fairness." 


"SITTING  ON  THE  DOOR-STEP,  HOLDING  CHRISTIE." 

"  Ah,  Christine  !  "  Patience  cried,  springing  from  her  lowly  seat, 
"  you  must  take  home  a  basket  of  my  berries.  My  own  raising,  aren't 
they,  mother  ?  And  such  fine  ones  !  I've  watched  and  tended  them 
as  a  hen  her  chicks.  And  I  doubt  if  any  old  hen  is  prouder  of  her 
young  than  I  of  my  beauties." 

Going  into  the  house,  she  came  to  the  door  with  a  little  basket. 
With  a  light  spring,  jumped  across  her  mother's  lap,  saying,  - 

"  I  couldn't  disturb  your  first  rest  of  the  day,  dear  mother." 


24  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

And  then,  swinging  her  basket,  she  tripped  along  to  a  large  hot 
bed,  where  flourished  the  patch  of  berries.  With  the  light  wind 
ruffling  into  curls  the  sunny  hair,  and  snatches  of  song  coming  from 
the  red  lips,  as  she  stooped  gathering  the  fruit,  she  was  an  ideal  of 
girlhood. 

Of  all  the  friends  Matthew  and  Christine  had  made,  there  were 
none  so  dear  as  this  family.  Tabitha  strongly  interested  Matthew.  He 
knew  her  history,  and  how  she  came  among  the  Mormons.  He  pitied 
and  helped  her  as  best  he  could. 

Years  ago  Tabitha  Simpson  was  a  girl  living  in  a  quiet  New- 
England  town,  —  a  restless,  ambitious  girl,  full  of  energy,  endurance, 
and  intelligence,  qualities  that,  with  opportunity,  might  have  made 
her  independent  anywhere  ;  but,  surrounded  by  the  bigotry  and  nar 
row-mindedness  more  peculiar  then  than  to  the  New  England  of  to 
day,  these  qualities  were  like  enemies  turned  upon  her  own  soul. 
No  opening  outside  of  the  beaten  path  of  labor,  trodden  by  mother 
and  grandmother,  no  freedom  of  thought,  or  occupation  for  mind,  the 
life  was  trying  beyond  measure  to  the  girl,  feeling  her  ability,  and  full 
of  a  blind  faith  in  herself. 

It  was  thus  the  Mormon  missionaries  found  her,  as  they  came 
seeking  converts.  These  Mormon  missionaries  are  carefully  chosen. 
They  are  generally  men  of  education,  gifted  with  the  tongue  of 
eloquence. 

They  pictured  the  bliss  and  beauty  of  the  city  of  the  desert,  where 
saints  flourished,  and  men  met  prophets  ;  where  was  held  sweet 
communion  with  those  who  had  seen  the  vision  of  God.  To  the  ambi 
tious  they  spoke  of  worldly  advance  ;  to  the  lonely,  of  love  and  com- 
panionship.  Thus  they  preached  to  hungry  and  dissatisfied  hearts, 
winning  them  to  their  own  destruction. 

O  cursed  apathy  of  a  land  that  claims  to  be  the  birthplace  of 
freedom  !  To  sit  with  folded  hands  while  sinful  eloquence  converts, 


TABITHA'S   GARDEN.  25 

to  immorality  and  slavery,  the  innocent  and  ignorant !  Where  is  the 
mother-love  of  its  protecting  laws  that  permits  these  human  sacrifices, 
and  hides  the  crime  beneath  the  sham  mantle  of  "  religious  freedom  "  ? 

Deep  in  Tabitha's  soul  sank  the  Mormon  teachings.  To  her  they 
seemed  of  heaven  itself. 

Leaving  home  and  kindred,  with  the  exultation  of  a  spirit  that  has 
at  last  found  the  light,  she  joined  the  band  of  converts,  in  charge  of 
the  missionaries,  who  were  starting  on  the  journey  across  the  con 
tinent  to  the  "city  of  the  elect." 

All  dreaming  their  own  dreams  of  the  promised  land,  they  reached 
Salt  Lake  as  summer  was  in  her  first  smiling.  Tabitha  was  sent  to 
this  interior  town,  and,  told  she  was  thus  approaching  nearer  the 
longed-for  heaven,  was  given  in  marriage,  or  the  ceremony  so  called, 
to  Bishop  White,  the  richest  man  in  the  province. 

She  was  given  to  the  bishop  an  enthusiast.  She  became  his  wife, 
fearing  herself  a  dupe. 

When  she  looked  into  the  sad  face  of  the  first  wife,  and  felt  the 
bitter  wrong  done  to  her,  the  faith  for  which  she  would  have  been 
martyred  was  shorn  of  its  glory. 

It  is  difficult  to  see  the  glory  of  a  creed  that  teaches  cruelty  and 
selfishness.  And,  from  the  hour  of  her  marriage,  the  injustice  done 
the  first  wife  embittered  Tabitha's  life.  Taking  the  first  place  in  the 
bishop's  household,  she  still  felt  herself  an  intruder.  It  was  only 
when  given  charge  of  the  dairy,  which  formed  an  extensive  part  of 
Bishop  White's  property,  that  her  energy  and  capacity  for  work  made 
her  life  endurable.  Here  her  country  education,  and  her  experience 
in  butter-making,  did  her  good  service,  rendering  her  so  valuable  to 
the  bishop  that  he  seemed  quite  contented. 

Only  for  a  time,  however.  Too  quickly  came  the  change  over  his 
fickle  nature.  Harder  and  harder  Tabitha  tried  to  satisfy  his  chan 
ging  fancy.  Children  had  come  to  her,  one  after  another,  filling  her 


26  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

empty  heart  with  love,  and  torturing  it  with  anxiety.  For  their  sakes 
she  would  have  held  fast  to  the  man  who  was  their  father. 

Little  by  little  the  first  wife  and  Tabitha  had  become  friends. 
The  children  were  the  first  bond  between  these  two  so  strangely 
allied,  drawing  them  closer  and  closer  with  their  loving,  childish 
ways,  until,  at  last,  when  the  later  fancy  of  Bishop  White  put  them 
both  aside,  they  fell  into  each  other's  hearts,  two  lonely,  miserable 
women. 

With  anxious  eyes  peering  into  the  possible  future  of  the  dear 
children,  they  made  common  cause  against  the  impending  advent  of 
the  new  wife.  But  to  what  end  ?  What  woman  can  stem  the  torrent 
of  man's  passions  when  his  law  and  his  religion  give  full  license  to 
self-indulgence  ! 

It  was  the  old  story.  Finally  the  day  came  when  Tabitha,  blinded 
by  tears  that  dared  not  fall,  was  forced  to  stand  beside  the  father  of 
her  children,  and  sign  her  acquiescence  in  his  brutal  selfishness  that 
was  breaking  her  heart. 

This  trial  she  endured  alone  ;  for,  shortly  before  the  day  Bishop 
White  decided  the  Lord  called  him  to  take  a  new  wife,  his  first  wife 
closed  her  eyes  on  earthly  things.  Resting  in  Tabitha's  arms,  she 
floated  out  on  the  boundless  waters  of  eternity. 

After  the  new  wife's  home-coming,  Tabitha  found  herself  of  no 
further  use.  Even  the  charge  of  the  dairy-farm  was  taken  from  her. 
How  often,  with  her  baby  on  her  breast,  and  her  two  little  children 
clinging  to  her  side,  did  the  lonely  woman  walk  to  the  graveyard, 
where  a  white,  painted  head-board  marked  the  resting-place  of  her 
only  friend.  What  a  bitter  mockery  the  inscription,  telling  of  the 
husband's  grief !  —  a  husband  who,  at  that  very  moment,  was  gloating 
over  the  buxom  charms  of  the  new  one  he  had  taken  to  wife. 

It  was  at  the  grave  that  Matthew  found  her.  Here  he  became  her 
friend.  From  the  moment  he  looked  at  her  weary  face,  and  marked 


TABITHA'S   GARDEN. 


27 


the  tender  care  of  her  children,  he  knew  the  curse  of  Mormonism  had 
fallen  heavily  on  this  woman  ;  for  she  had  a  heart  to  surfer. 

To  this  last  resting-place  of  her  friend,  the  old  man  came  as  often 
as  he  could  spare  the  time,  trying  to  whisper  words  of  comfort  to  his 
sister  in  trouble  ;  for,  to  suffering  humanity,  Matthew  was  a  true 
brother.  He  brought  his  Christine  to  help  cheer  this  drooping  heart. 
Into  her  arms  the  baby  was  placed  by  the  mother,  half  won  to  smile 
as  she  looked,  while  the  fair  girl  petted  and  coddled  him  in  a  motherly 
fashion  inborn  in  some  women.  This  was  about  ten  years  ago,  and 
shortly  before  the  morning  when,  in  a  furious  rage  at  some  childish 
misdemeanor  of  Tabitha's  eldest  boy,  the  last  Mrs.  White  demanded 
that  the  children  and  their  mother  should  go  to  another  house. 

Tabitha,  sent  away  from  the  house  that  for  twelve  years  she  had 
called  home,  was  given  this  little  cabin,  and  large,  uncultivated  piece 
of  ground,  from  the  proceeds  of  which  she  must  earn  the  support  of 
herself  and  children. 

A  wife,  a  mother !  Yet  a  castaway  on  the  great  ocean  of  life,  her 
breast  full  of  bitterness  at  her  own  and  children's  wrongs.  No  help, 
no  hope  !  For  where  in  all  Utah  did  a  woman's  wrongs  find  voice 
or  righting  ? 

What  mattered  it  to  the  rulers  and  elders  that  a  mother  and  her 
children  had  been  driven  from  the  roof  that  should  have  sheltered 
them,  to  a  life  of  toil  ?  It  was  the  husband's  will,  and  submission  was 
the  wife's  portion. 

Shame,  anger,  jealousy,  all  raged  within  Tabitha's  breast,  as,  holding 
her  sleeping  babe,  she  entered  the  cabin-door,  and  looked  around  on 
the  desolation  within.  One  small  window  let  in  the  sunlight,  which 
rested  on  two  wooden  chairs,  one  table,  one  bed,  on  which  were  thrown 
some  blankets  that  had  been  hastily  put  in  the  wagon  with  the  few 
things  that  the  reigning  wife  had  decided  necessary  to  send  for  her 
fallen  rival. 


28 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


The  two  older  children,  a  boy  of  eleven,  and  girl  of  eight,  years, 
were  playing  outside  in  the  fresh  air,  enjoying  such  freedom  as  had 

been  unknown  to  them 
for  many  months.  The 
mother  glanced  at  them 
as  they  ran  about  among 
the  weeds  and  briers 
that  filled  the  field 
around  the  house.  Still 
holding  her  sleeping  in 
fant,  she  sank  into  a 
chair,  and,  leaning  her 
face  on  the  table,  shed 
as  bitter  tears  as  human 
heart  can  yield. 

She  was  thus  when 
a  gentle  hand  was  laid 
upon  her  shoulder ;  and, 
raising  her  eyes,  she  saw 
Matthew  gazing  at  her. 
"  Sister,  do  not  de 
spair.  God  has  not  left 
you  friendless." 

She  heard  the   ten 
der  voice,  saw  the  eyes 
saddened    at    another's 
woe,  and  looked  in  the 
doorway  at  her  two  chil 
dren,    Martin    and    Pa 
tience,  who  were  eating  hungrily  of  some  lunch  Christine  was  serving 
to  them.     In  her  hour  of  desolation  these  friends   had  come  to  her. 


"A   GENTLE    HAND    WAS    LAID    UPON    HER   SHOULDER.' 


TABITHA  >S   GARDEN. 


29 


So  truly,  in  his  noble  humility,  did  the  old  man  look  a  saint,  that  she 
would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  and  kissed  his  feet  ;  but  he  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  as,  from  her  half-wild  expression,  he  divined  her  in 
tention,  and,  gently  reseating  her,  took  from  her  almost  powerless  hold 
the  baby,  whose  great  eyes  were  beginning  to  wander  around  the 
strange  scene. 

For  a  few  moments  a  merciful  stupor  overpowered  Tabitha.  And 
while  Matthew  tried  to  force  some  drops  of  water  between  the  closed 
teeth,  and  bathed  the  deathlike  brow,  Christine,  giving  the  baby  to 
Patience,  and  telling  Martin  to  gather  some  sticks,  and  kindle  a  fire, 
hurriedly  arranged  the  bed,  and  hung  some  cloth  as  curtain  to  the 
window,  thus  giving  to  the  barren  cabin  something  of  a  homelike  air. 

When,  at  last,  poor  Tabitha  came  back  to  a  realization  of  troublous 
life,  she  saw  a  fire  brightening  the  empty  fireplace,  a  bed  turned 
down  to  receive  her,  and  Patience  by  her  side  with  a  cup  of  warm  tea ; 
while  Christine  walked  up  and  down,  cooing  and  talking  to  the  baby, 
who  seemed  never  tired  of  gazing  at  her ;  and  Matthew,  smiling  as 
lovingly  at  the  weary  woman  as  if  he  were  an  angel  sent  from  God 
to  comfort  her. 

Thus,  ever  after,  he  seemed  to  this  woman.  In  her  darkest  hours  the 
memory  of  this  good  man  would  stand  between  her  soul  and  utter  despair. 

When  she  had  grown  calmer,  he  placed  her  baby  in  her  arms,  and, 
taking  Christine's  hand,  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  — 

"  God  of  all  mercy,  have  pity  on  our  sufferings.  Teach  us  to 
bear  them  for  thy  love.  Make  us  feel  thy  diyine  charity  for  the  sins 
against  us,  and  give  us  to  know,  that,  even  in  our  desolation,  thou  art 
near,  and  lovest  us." 

In  these  few  simple  words,  condensing  all  the  long  sermons  of 
Christianity,  the  old  man  blessed  the  sorrowful  woman,  calling  her 
again  his  "sister,"  and,  with  his  child,  bade  good-night  to  the  tired 
little  family. 


30  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Ten  years  had  passed  since  that  sad  evening.  In  all  these  years 
Matthew  had  stood  as  a  bulwark  against  the  troubles  that  seemed 
often  about  to  wreck  this  struggling  family.  He  it  was  that  sug 
gested  the  cultivation  of  berries  and  vegetables.  His  hands  helped 
in  the  clearing  of  the  weeds  and  briers.  A  skilful  gardener,  he  taught 
Tabitha  the  most  improved  method  of  vegetable  culture.  Being  full 
of  energy  and  perseverance,  she  made  an  apt  pupil. 

And  the  result  of  her  labors  lay  smiling  before  her  as  she  sat 
beside  Christine  and  Christie,  watching  Patience  pick  the  berries, 
and  glancing  ever  and  anon  up  the  road  for  the  home-coming  of  her 
boy.  After  a  little,  the  faint  sound  of  a  whistle  growing  nearer,  a 
quick  step,  and,  in  a  few  moments  more,  Martin  White  stood  before 
them,  —  a  great,  tall  fellow  of  twenty,  with  cheeks  pink  as  a  girl's, 
blue  eyes,  light  hair,  and  wide,  happy  mouth.  He  kissed  his  mother, 
took  Christine's  hand  affectionately,  then,  holding  out  his  arms  to 
Christie,  said,  "  Well,  little  man,  don't  you  want  a  trot  down  to 
Patience,  and  back  again  ?  " 

So  contented  was  the  loving  child,  that  he  fain  would  rest  near 
Christine  ;  but,  when  the  kind  brother's  face  bent  over  him,  he  smiled 
his  consent. 

With  dexterous  touch  Martin  put  the  little  fellow  on  his  broad 
shoulder,  and  trotted  off  as  light  of  foot  as  if  he  had  not  worked  ten 
hours  that  day,  nor  walked  two  miles  to  reach  his  home. 

Down  to  Patience  and  back  again,  with  the  girl  hanging  on  his 
arm  ;  her  sweet  laugh  ringing  out  in  the  soft  spring  air,  as  she  strove 
to  keep  step  with  his  great  strides. 

With  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  Matthew  joined  them.  The 
light  fell  on  his  snowy  hair,  and  around  his  whole  person,  like  a  halo. 

He  smiled,  and  a  blessing  seemed  to  descend  on  them. 

Looking  at  him,  a  brother  of  God's  own  giving,  and  then  at  her 
children's  happy  faces,  her  garden  blooming  luxuriantly,  Tabitha's 


TABITHA'S   GARDEN.  31 

heart  thrilled  with  gratitude.     She  put  out  her  hand  as  Matthew  came 
near. 

"  To  you  I  owe  all  this.  You  are  indeed  father  of  the  fatherless, 
helper  of  the  helpless." 

"  No,  sister.     Not  to  me,  but  to  Him  of  whose  love  for  the  unfortu 
nate  mine  is  but  the  shadow." 

And  so,  with  holy  words,  and  holier  thoughts,  with  love  for  all, 
and  malice  towards  none,  this  man  of  simple  character  stood,  an  image 
of  the  Godhead. 

Like  a  finger  pointing  to  an  unknown  road,  his  bare  existence  was 
more  powerful  than  argument  to  prove  there  must  be  a  God  to  have 
made  so  noble  a  creature. 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A    MEMORY. 

'ALKING  home  in  the  moonlight,  Matthew  and 
Christine  passed  quite  a  large  frame  building  going 
gradually  to  ruin.  "  Haunted,"  the  ignorant  called 
it.  "  A  monument  of  God's  wrath  towards  the 
miserly  and  disobedient,"  said  the  righteous  Mor 
mon,  and  proclaimed  Bishop  White  as,  folding  his 
short,  fat  hands,  he  led  the  prayers.  But  these 
two  knew  its  true  history ;  and  Matthew,  in  passing 
what  had  been  the  home  of  dead  friends,  never 
failed  to  stop,  and  say,  "  Peace  be  to  their  souls  !  " 
He  looked  beyond  the  grief  and  care  of  life  to  that 
other  world  where  sin  is  not,  and  joy  abounds.  Whatever  the  pain  he 
felt  for  another's  woe,  this  belief  brought  strength  as  it  annihilated 
bitterness. 

Christine,  with  her  hand  through  his  arm,  and  her  head  leaning  on 
his  shoulder,  saw  beautiful  peace  shining  from  her  grandfather's  face, 
then  looked  on  the  deserted  shell  of  what  had  once  been  home  to  a 
simple,  honest  family.  The  moon's  brightness,  through  broken  windows 
and  fallen  door,  streamed  on  the  odds  and  ends  of  household  ware. 

The  curse  of  the  church  had  saved,  even  from  the  needy,  what  was 
now  useless  to  the  dead.  She  sighed  as  memory  brought  back  the 
sad  details  of  a  family's  fate.  Thinking  of  them,  she  could  almost 
see  the  master  and  head  of  the  family,  —  a  great,  sturdy  fellow,  thick- 


A   MEMORY. 


33 


set  and  strong,  with  heavy  features  and  colorless  skin,  while  ever 
between  his  teeth  the  pipe,  sending  forth  clouds  of  smoke.  And  his 
wife,  fair  and  ruddy,  with  her  children  around  her,  and  always  a  baby  in 
her  arms.  They  were  Germans,  living  in  one  of  the  Southern  States. 
Well-to-do  in  their  adopted  country,  they  were  tempted  by  the  prom 
ise  of  gaining  wealth  in  a  land  where  the  Church  itself  looks  after 
her  children's  welfare.  Converted,  their  goods  sold,  they  emigrated  to 
Utah.  They  were  liv 
ing  in  the  village  when 
Matthew  arrived  with 
his  granddaughter,  and, 
during  the  first  few 
weeks  of  discomfort  in 
settling  matters,  were 
kind  and  neighborly. 
Of  cheerful,  happy  tem 
peraments,  which  in 
Anton  was  descend 
ing  into  true  German 


phlegm,  that,  with  fat, 

,  ,.  ANTON. 

seems  to  be  a  consti 
tutional  matter.     But,  despite  phlegm,  Anton  was  sharp,  shrewd,  and, 
while  perfectly  honest,  rather  close. 

"I  likes  monnish,"  he  would  say  confidentially  to  Matthew.  "It 
ish  a  goot  ding  to  haf  in  a  vamly." 

The  part  of  Utah's  government  that  particularly  fretted  him  was 
the  tithing ;  and,  whenever  the  day  would  come  for  its  payment, 
Anton  would  fume,  worry,  and  even  occasionally  let  his  pipe  go  out. 
Still,  things  prospered  with  him.  While  not  growing  rich  rapidly,  he 
managed  to  do  quite  as  well  as  he  had  done  in  the  South. 

"  But  dere  is  vere  de  lie  comes  in,"  he  said  one  day,  leaning  on 


34  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Matthew's  fence,  and  watching  him  as  he  and  Christine  tended  their 
newly  planted  flower-garden. 

"  Dey  said,  '  Cum,  vrend,  leave  dy  slow  gains,  an'  cum  to  de 
Ian'  off  de  bounteous  blenty.'  Veil,  I  don't  see  de  blenty.  I  tells 
you,  Mishter  Mattiew,  vat  I  vill  do.  I  vill  not  pay  de  ties  next  time." 

Matthew  stopped  his  work,  and,  going  up  to  Anton,  said  gently,  — 

"  My  friend,  your  own  welfare  depends  on  your  paying  the  demands 
of  the  government.  The  Mormon  rule  seems  to  me  more  political 
than  religious ;  since  their  religion,  in  its  motive,  has  above  all  politi 
cal  power  and  advance.  They  call  this  tithing  voluntary.  Yet  do 
they  not  threaten  ills  if  it  be  not  paid  ?  It  is  the  great  source  of 
revenue,  one  of  the  powers  of  their  rule ;  and,  be  assured,  its  payment 
will  be  enforced.  Consider  your  wife  and  children.  If  you  do  aught 
to  bring  upon  yourself  the  vengeance  of  this  church's  government, 
you  will  ruin  them." 

"Veil,  dere  ish  no  goot  talkin',  dough  I  tanks  you.  I  has  said  I 
vill  not  pay,  an'  I  vill  shtick  to  my  vord.  Dey  can't  hurt  me."  And 
he  drew  up  his  burly  form,  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and,  with  a 
contemptuous  "pish  !  "  once  more  began  smoking. 

Again  Christine  seemed  to  hear  it  all,  and  saw  every  peculiarity 
of  the  honest  fellow,  even  the  close-cut  dark  hair,  standing  straight 
up  all  over  his  head. 

Many  visits  did  Matthew  and  she  make  to  the  family,  hoping  to 
induce  Anton  to  change  his  mind.  But  he  would  not.  He  would 
laugh  a  comfortable,  jolly  laugh,  and  say,  — 

"  Mr.  Mattiew,  dey  vill  do  nodding.  Dese  peoples  is  all  like 
sheeps.  Dey  f oilers  just  vere  de  first  von  goes.  Now,  Yon  Anton  is 
going  anoder  vay.  And  you'll  see,  dey  vill  be  surbrised,  dey  vill 
tretten,  but  dey  vill  do  nodding.  Ha,  ha  !  " 

Matthew  tried  to  rouse  the  fears  of  Mrs.  Anton  ;  but  she  smiled, 
and  shook  her  head.  "Yon  knows  best.  He  ish  verra  vise."  She 


A   MEMORY.  35 

had  for  so  long  taken  as  her  own  his  will,  she  could  see  nothing  but 
wisdom  in  it. 

When  tithing-day  came,  Anton  refused  to  pay.  In  vain  the  tithe- 
gatherer  insisted  and  entreated. 

"  No,"  said  the  German.  "  Dey  says  it  ish  a  matter  fer  me  to  give, 
or  not.  I  vill  not."  And  then  he  added,  in  a  more  conciliatory  man 
ner,  "  Shust  you  lets  me  get  a  little  ahead,  an'  de  nex'  time  I'll  pay." 

Then,  turning,  the  tithe-gatherer  had  cursed  him,  his  family,  his 
cattle,  his  fields,  calling  down  upon  them  the  wrath  of  God,  and 
hatred  of  man. 

Christine,  who  had  run  over  with  some  home-remedy  for  one  of 
the  children,  who  was  not  well,  stopped  at  the  gate.  Almost  fainting 
at  the  terrible  words,  she  stood  leaning  against  a  tree,  where,  unno 
ticed  by  the  tithe-gatherer,  she  had  seen  him  pass  out.  Dizzy  with 
the  horror  of  that  curse,  she  ran  up  to  Anton,  and  looked  to  see  what 
effect  it  had  had  upon  him. 

Except  for  a  nervous  working  of  his  fingers,  he  seemed  the  same 
as  usual. 

"  Did  you  hear  him,  little  gal  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Did  you  hear  de  man 
ov  Gott  cussin  my  vamly  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  then,  bursting  into  tears,  had  begged 
him  to  pay  the  dues.  "  If  you  haven't  the  money,  grandfather'll  give 
you  what  he  has  to  help  you.  Please,  Mr.  Anton,  please  pay  it.  Don't 
put  yourself  in  danger." 

"  My  little  gal,"  — and  he  had  lain  his  great  hand  on  her  head,  - 
"  does  yer  b'lieve  Gott  vill  hear  de  vicked  vords  ov  a  man  like  dat  ? 
No,  no.     He  vas  only  trying  to  vrighten  me.     Ha,  ha  !     Yon  Anton 
am  not  so  easily  vrightened." 

Only  trying  to  frighten  !  He  did  more.  His  curses  took  actual  form. 
The  fat  cattle,  poor  Anton's  pride,  one  by  one  were  found  dead,  —  some 
with  a  knife  thrust  in  their  throats,  some  evidently  poisoned.  His 


36  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

chickens  were  stolen  ;  and,  though  he  could  never  catch  the  thief,  he 
found,  at  distances  from  the  house,  feathers  and  heads  he  recog 
nized. 

His  potatoes,  which  had  this  year  given  promise  of  a  fine  crop, 
perished.  There  was  not  water  enough  for  his  irrigation.  Although 
it  ran  to  waste  around  him,  although  he  offered  to  pay  special  rates, 
the  Mormon  authorities,  owners  of  the  water,  refused  to  allow  him  a 
particle. 

Of  all  the  neighbors,  no  one  spoke  to  him  or  his.  Men,  women, 
and  children,  seeing  them  coming,  would  cross  the  road,  avoiding,  as 
if  nlague-stricken,  this  unfortunate  family.  Matthew  alone  stood  by 
him.  Threatened,  abused,  yet  did  this  great  spirit  never  quail. 

"  Misfortunes,  even  malice,  we  may  not  escape.  But  sin  we  must 
avoid.  And  it  would  be  sin  to  turn  away  from  a  brother  in  trouble. 
Do  you  not  think  so,  my  Christine  ?  "  And,  child  as  she  had  been, 
he  had  thus  lifted  her  to  the  level  of  his  high  Christianity. 

The  woman,  leaning  on  his  arm,  pressed  it  tenderly,  and  looked 
once  more  in  his  face. 

"  Poor  Anton  !  "  he  said,  and  sighed,  as  he  passed  his  hand  gently 
over  her  head. 

"  Poor  Anton  !  " 

He,  too,  was  thinking  of  the  unhappy  man  ;  of  the  morning  when, 
with  frightened  face,  he  had  rushed  over  for  him. 

"Come  quick,  Mr.  Mattiew,  vor  de  lofe-of  Gott !  Mein  frau  an' 
de  childer ! " 

Leaving  his  plough  in  the  furrow,  Matthew  hurried  to  the  large 
house,  which,  once  resounding  with  children's  merriment,  had  now 
become  the  abode  of  mourning. 

On  the  floor,  in  convulsions,  lay  the  two  eldest  children.  In  their 
little  hands  was  candy.  Who  gave  it  was  never  known,  for  the  chil 
dren  died  without  telling  the  name.  Playing  down  the  road,  when 


A   MEMORY.  37 

their  mother  called  them  to  dinner,  they  had  come  slowly  homewards. 
Before  reaching  the  house  they  began  to  cry  with  pain ;  and,  as  they 
had  brought  them  in  the  room,  convulsions  set  in. 

Neither  father  nor  mother  noticed  the  candy  until  Matthew  drew 
their  attention  to  it.  Taking  a  piece  from  one  stiff  little  hand,  he 
tasted  it,  and,  almost  immediately  after,  felt  a  slight  cramp. 

"  Arsenic,"  he  had  told  Anton,  and  tried  to  produce  vomiting.  But 
it  was  too  late.  In  a  few  hours  the  children,  who  at  morn  had  been 
full  of  health,  were  dead,  and  the  poor  mother  heart-broken.  She 
never  smiled  again,  lost  all  strength,  and,  when  the  third  child  sick 
ened  with  measles,  died  the  day  it  was  buried. 

Three  little  graves,  and  hers  close  by,  were  all,  except  the  baby, 
that  remained  to  poor  Anton.  Christine  offered  to  take  the  babe 
home,  and  tend  it ;  but  he  refused. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  tanks  you,  little  gal,  but  he's  all  I  has  lef. 
All  gone, — frau,  childer,  cattle,  garden."  And  he  pointed  to  the 
bare,  withered  potato-stalks,  all  that  remained  of  the  great  fields  he 
had  planted. 

Every  day  the  little  girl  and  her  grandfather  would  visit  their  poor 
friend,  and  every  day  find  him  with  the  failing  baby  in  his  arms,  walk 
ing  up  and  down,  trying  in  vain  to  quiet  its  wailing.  He  fell  away  to 
a  shadow.  His  pipe,  forgotten,  lay  on  the  window-sill  covered  with 
dust ;  his  fire  unlighted,  except  by  Matthew,  who,  to  tend  this  unhappy 
brother,  gave  every  moment  of  his  spare  time. 

One  night,  as  Christine  was  reading  to  Matthew,  a  knock  came  to 
their  door.  Opening,  they  saw  Anton.  It  was  the  first  time,  since 
his  wife's  death,  he  had  left  his  house. 

"  Come  in,  friend,"  said  Matthew.  "  Come  and  share  our  home. 
There  is  a  place  for  thee  and  thy  child."  And  he  had  put  his  arm 
around  the  shoulders  of  the  desolate  man. 

"  Nein,  nein,"  Anton  answered,  slowly  shaking  his  head  ;  and  his 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


heavy  eyes  were  full  of  despair.  "  My  baby  ish  gone  too.  Take  de 
liddle  body,  Mish  Christine.  Fix  him  fer  de  grabe.  I  ish  got  nod 
ding  lef ,  only  deat',  only  cleat'."  And,  laying  in  Christine's  arms  the 
rigid  body  of  the  infant,  he  turned,  and, 
before  Matthew  could  detain  him,  had 
left  the  house. 

"  I    must    follow   him,  dar 
ling,"    her   grandfather   had       C 


DEATH    OF   ANTON. 


said,  striding  into  the  darkness  after  the  miserable  man.  As  he 
reached  Anton's  gate,  he  heard  a  shot,  and,  hurrying  to  the  house, 
saw  on  the  floor,  where  the  little  children  had  fallen  in  convulsions, 
the  bleeding,  dying  Anton. 

On  his  knees  beside  him,  Matthew  prayed  forgiveness  for  his  mad 
act.  Opening  his  eyes,  Anton  had  gasped,  "  I  hopes  Gott  vill  vor- 
give,  I  vas  so  onhappy  ;  "  and  then,  without  another  word,  passed  to 
the  great  Tribunal,  where  judgment  awaits  the  sorrowing  and  sinful. 
To  Matthew's  soul,  strong  and  heroic,  self-destruction  was  a  fearful 
crime ;  yet  felt  he  nothing  but  pity  as  he  knelt  beside  the  dead. 


'A   MEMORY.  39 

"  Driven  to  his  death  !  Forgive  the  crime,  great  God,  Father  of 
mercy."  Thus  he  prayed. 

When  giving  information  of  his  death,  and  its  manner,  no  burial 
being  offered,  and  the  Mormon  authorities  calling  it  "  God's  judgment," 
Matthew  made  the  coffins  for  the  father  and  his  baby.  He  drove  them 
to  the  open  grave  he  had  prepared  for  them,  and,  above  their  resting- 
place,  read  the  prayers,  while  Christine  made  responses. 

Each  minutia  came  back  to  Christine  of  that  most  sad  experience. 
And  somehow,  with  the  faces  of  the  dead  children,  their  mother,  and 
the  ghastly  face  of  Anton  as  he  gave  her  the  baby,  came  the  face  of 
her  Malcolm.  Radiant  with  youth  and  beauty,  it  was  strangely  out 
of  place  in  that  sad  group.  She  shuddered.  Perhaps  it  portended  ill 
to  him. 

"  God  save  him  !  "  cried  her  heart.     And  Matthew  asked,  — 

"  What  ails  my  child  ?  Come,  let  us  move  on,  and  enjoy  the 
brightness.  God  sends  that  as  well  as  grief.  We  must  take  them 
both  from  his  hands.  Only,  I  pray,  if  it  be  his  will,  my  darling's 
Mines  may  be  cast  in  pleasant  places/' 

And  again  he  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over  her  silken  hair. 
Slowly  they  walked  on,  speaking  occasionally,  but  feeling  ever  that 
close  sympathy,  that  blessed  nearness,  which  is  love's  tenderest  guise. 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    V. 

PEACEFUL  DAYS. 

|WO  months  had  passed,  and  only  one  more  of  waiting 
for  Malcolm  and  Christine.  There  came  frequent 
letters  to  the  girl  from  her  lover,  and  sometimes  one 
went  from  her  to  him.  His  were  often  hastily  writ 
ten,  speaking  of  the  pressure  of  business,  but  always 
full  of  his  love  for  her. 

No  mention  of  the  Mormon  teachings.  No  ex 
pressed  desire  to  extend  her  range  of  vision,  so  that 
it  could  admit  polygamy.  Man  is  by  nature  a  hunter, 
desiring  that  which  he  pursues ;  and  Malcolm  was  still 
in  pursuit  of  the  game.  Though  surrounded  by  Mormon 
friends,  he  seemed  quite  content  with  his  chosen  love.  None,  how 
ever,  but  his  uncle,  knew  his  intention  of  abjuring  polygamy.  And 
that  uncle,  with  the  smile  of  a  satirist  and  a  knowledge  of  what  the 
result  would  be,  listened  to  the  occasional  outpourings  of  Malcolm's 
affection  for  Christine. 

With  Christine  the  days  went  quietly  by.  Since  arousing  herself 
from  her  first  pain  at  Malcolm's  departure,  she  had  returned  naturally 
to  the  duties  of  her  life.  And  the  smile,  though  coming  more  rarely, 
was  as  sweet  as  before  her  lover  came  a-wooing. 

She  had  been  busy  helping  Patience  pack  fruit  for  transportation ; 
for  Matthew,  insisting  on  loaning  the  money,  had  bought  a  team  and 
wagon  for  Martin  to  carry  off  to  better  markets  the  produce  of  the 


PEACEFUL  DAYS.  41 

garden.  It  seemed  to  Matthew  so  much  the  better  plan  for  them, 
thus  sooner  to  realize  the  fruit  of  their  labor.  And  Tabitha  gratefully 
accepted  from  this  noble  brother  his  generous  advance. 

How  bright  was  the  morning  when  Martin,  in  the  glory  of  his 
new  jumper  and  overalls,  with  the  broad -brimmed  hat  so  familiar  to 
the  neighboring  towns  of  Utah,  stood  at  the  side  of  his  team,  just 
ready  to  ride  away  with  his  precious  load  ! 

Matthew  and  Christine  had  come  to  assist  in  loading  the  wagon, 
and  wish  the  dear  boy  "God-speed." 

Patience  fluttered  around  from  case  to  case  of  the  luscious  berries, 
giving  all  sorts  of  motherly  advice  to  the  big  brother,  who,  laughing, 
bowed  at  each  fresh  instruction,  taking  off  his  hat  as  to  a  sovereign 
lady. 

The  mother  did  not  speak,  but  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  Martin. 
To  her  the  thought  of  future  gain  was  lost  in  the  sorrow  of  parting. 

He  seemed  to  understand  this  ;  for  presently  stopping  his  chaffing 
with  Patience,  who,  with  uplifted  finger,  was  uttering  some  wise  saw, 
he  put  his  arm  around  the  thin  form  of  his  mother. 

"  Don't  fret  about  me,  mother.  I  will  be  as  faithful  to  your  teach 
ings  as  if  you  were  with  me.  I  will  be  as  careful  of  myself  as  if  I 
were  dear  Christie.  And  —  I  will  hurry  back  in  time  to  bring  Chris 
tine  her  wedding-dress,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the  mother's  eyes  filling  ; 
and,  feeling  a  great  lump  rising  in  his  throat,  he  knew  he  would  break 
down  unless  he  said  something  to  divert  thought  from  himself. 

Christine  blushed,  Patience  laughed  ;  and  Christie,  who  was  sitting 
by  Christine,  took  her  hand,  and  pressed  it  so  tight  that  the  thin 
fingers  made  red  marks  on  the  delicate  flesh. 

"  O  Martin  !  "  said  the  child,  "  if  you  pass  by  a  big  town  where 
they  sell  rings,  bring  me  a  little  one  for  Christine.  Will  you  wear 
it  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  up  at  her  with  earnest  eyes. 

''Always,"   Christine  answered. 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


And  so  Tabitha's  tears  were  unshed  ;  and  Martin's  did  not  shame 
the  down  on  his  lip  as  the  large,  white-covered  wagon  rolled  away 
from  the  garden-gate,  amid  blessings  from  the  little  band  of  friends. 

The  mother  stood  watching  while  there  was  a  glimpse  of  it  shin 


ing    white    in    the    rising    sun. 
to  sea,  bearing  part  of  her 

"  Her  ship."     Ev- 
and  many  wake- 
she    see, 


"  Her  ship  "  had   gone  out 
heart  in  it. 

ery    hour   of    the    day, 
ful  ones  at  night,  did 
with     her     mind's 
eye,  that  great, 
lumbering 
wagon,  and 


the  bright, 
boyish  face  that 
had   looked    out   to 
throw  her  one  last,  part 
ing  kiss. 

He  had    been  gone   three 
weeks,  and  now  they  were  looking 
for  him  back.     How  many  times  Pa 
tience   would    run  up  to  the  turn  of   the 
road,   and  strain  her  pretty  eyes  for  the 
sight  of  the  white  "  sail,"  as  she  called  it ! 

And  the  mother  would  pause,  during  her  daily  toil,  to  listen  for  the 
sound  of  the  heavy  wheels,  —  the  music  her  ears  were  longing  to 
hear. 

And  Christie,  with  clasped  hands,  and  great,  mournful  eyes,  would 
pray  for  the  kind  brother,  who,  in  all  his  life,  had  given  him  only  love 
and  tenderness. 


'THE  WAGON   ROLLED   AWAY 
FROM  THE  GARDEN-GATE." 


PEACEFUL   DAYS.  43 

Christine  and  Matthew  came  often  to  spend  the  hour  of  rest  with 
them  after  the  day's  labors  were  over. 

Those  lovely  June  evenings,  when  the  fields  of  waving  grain,  and 
trees  laden  with  ripening  fruit,  bespoke  the  prosperity  of  the  little 
colony  ! 

There  was,  of  course,  much  comment  on  the  sudden  rise  in  the 
fortunes  of  Mrs.  White,  and  much  jealousy  felt  and  shown.  But 
again  Matthew,  a  pillar  of  strength,  opposed  himself  to  the  malice  of 
the  community,  and  kept  the  greatest  share  from  reaching  the  ones  it 
was  intended  to  wound. 

Who  could  so  easily  soothe  the  angry  feelings  of  the  neighboring 
families  as  he,  who  had  never  refused  them  help  ?  How  many  times, 
before  things  so  prospered  with  him,  had  he  denied  himself  to  aid 
those  who  were  hard  pressed  ! 

Mothers  could  recall,  when  their  little  ones  were  stricken  with 
illness,  Matthew  and  Christine  would  come  softly  to  the  sick-room,  and, 
saying  few  words,  take  their  full  share  of  fatigue,  nursing  them  as 
tenderly  as  if  they  had  been  their  own. 

Some  of  these  little  ones  were  lying  now  in  the  graveyard,  —  "  God's 
acre,"  as  the  Germans  beautifully  phrase  it.  But  the  mothers  remem 
bered  those  who  had  soothed  their  last  moments,  and  their  jealous 
murmurings  were  soon  quieted.  There  was  not  one  in  the  village, 
who  had  needed  help,  that  Matthew  had  not  served,  asking  no  return. 
Listening  patiently  to  their  tales  of  sorrow,  nursing  their  sick,  and 
praying  for  their  dying,  he  was  associated  with  all  their  trials  ;  so 
tender  to  the  unfortunate,  that  he  seemed  of  kin  to  them. 

As  for  the  prosperous,  he  did  not  affect  them  much,  nor  they  him. 
And  to  them,  that  Mrs.  White,  the  put-aside  wife  of  the  bishop,  was 
able  to  send  off  a  team  with  her  fruits  and  early  vegetables,  was  of 
little  account.  The  bishop,  who  represented  the  Mormon  government 
in  the  town  (for  Mormon  bishops  are  a  temporal  as  well  as  religious 


44  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

body),  did  not  choose  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  the  family  he  had 
ignored  for  ten  years. 

It  was  only  when  one  more  malicious,  knowing  full  well  the  facts 
of  Tabitha's  hard  struggle  for  life,  congratulated  the  bishop  on  the 
remarkable  skill  of  his  wife  as  gardener,  and  complimented  him  on 
his  children,  that  he  thought,  some  day,  when  he  had  leisure,  he  would 
call  at  the  cabin. 

Tabitha,  ignorant  of  the  interest  slowly  awakening  in  her  husband, 
was  hopefully  looking  for  her  boy.  And  one  evening,  just  as  they 
had  given  him  up  for  the  night,  they  heard  the  sound  of  distant  wheels. 
Patience  fairly  flew  to  the  turn  in  the  road  ;  and  Tabitha,  carrying 
Christie,  went  as  fast  as  she  could  to  the  gate.  Hurrying  his  tired 
horses,  Martin  was  soon  with  them,  clasping  his  dear  mother  in  his 
strong  arms.  And  at  last  Tabitha  felt  repayment  for  all  the  troubles 
of  her  life. 

First  tending  to  his  horses,  and  then  seating  himself  between  his 
womankind,  with  Christie  in  his  arms,  Martin  was  as  happy  as  the 
proverbial  "  king,"  who,  in  this  quality,  far  excels  his  real  brother. 

He  had  travelled  more  than  a  hundred  miles  away  from  his  home  ; 
had  met  with  some  kindnesses  from  Gentiles  in  the  mining-camps 
beyond  the  Utah  border. 

"  And  what  do  you  suppose,  Christie,  a  little  girl  gave  me  for  you  ? 
A  St.  Bernard  puppy.  He  is  all  wrapped  in  my  blankets,  fast  asleep, 
in  the  wagon.  He  is  young  now,  but  in  a  few  months  will  be  large 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  carry  you  anywhere.  The  brother  of 
the  little  girl  is  twice  as  large  and  heavy  as  you;  and  he  rides  the 
mother  of  '  Rex  '  —  that's  his  name  —  out  over  the  hills  every  evening 
to  drive  home  the  cows.  Won't  it  be  grand  fun  to  see  our  Christie 
sitting  in  a  wagon,  and  hauled  around  by  a  great  dog  ?  or  else  riding 
on  his  back,  like  a  man  ?  You'll  cut  me  out,  and  soon  be  head  teamster 
for  the  dear  old  mother.  And  here,  my  boy,  is  your  ring  for  Chris- 


PEACEFUL   DAYS.  45 

tine,"  he  said,  as  he  drew  forth  a  tiny  white  box,  and,  opening  it, 
displayed  a  ring  of  glittering  gold. 

Small  and  plain  it  might  have  looked  to  others,  but  very  grand 
indeed  to  the  eager  eyes  now  admiring  it. 

"  Let  me  try  it  on,"  said  Patience,  slipping  it  on  her  finger,  and 
holding  up  her  dimpled  hand  in  high  delight.  "  Isn't  it  a  beauty  ?  " 
she  cried,  as,  dancing  around  in  the  moonlight,  waving  and  kissing 
the  decorated  hand,  she  seemed  a  fairy  sprite,  so  lovely  she  looked. 

"  Just  stop  your  prancing,  Miss  Vanity,  and  let  that  poor  hand  rest. 
I've  something  for  you.  Not  a  ring,"  Martin  continued,  as  the  girl 
extended  one  finger  of  her  other  hand,  pretending  to  be  unable  to  let 
the  ringed  one  go  any  farther  away  from  her. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  she  said  half  playfully,  as,  with  a  little  sigh,  she  put 
the  ring  in  the  box,  and  gave  it  to  Christie.  "  What  is  it,  you  great 
bear  of  a  brother  ?  Tell  me,  or  I  shall  die  of  curiosity."  And, 
kneeling  on  the  step  beside  him,  she  threw  one  soft  arm  around 
his  neck. 

"Don't  strangle  me,  or  I'll  die,  and  never  be  able  to  give  it  to  you. 
Come  to  the  wagon,  and  help  me  bring  it  up."  So  saying,  he  put 
Christie  in  his  mother's  lap,  and,  catching  Patience's  outstretched  hand, 
they  ran  off  together. 

Tabitha  watched  them  ;  and  the  first  evening  of  their  coming  to 
the  lonely  cabin  flashed  back  on  her  memory,  when  these  two,  hand  in 
hand,  played  among  the  briers  and  weeds.  With  a  great  thankfulness 
she  clasped  the  little  hand  Christie  had  slipped  into  hers. 

Hope  was  growing  stronger  within  her,  —  hope  for  this  world  and 
the  great  beyond.  And,  pointing  to  the  way,  there  rose  before  her 
the  vision  of  a  noble  man  ;  and  to  her  ears  a  voice  said,  — 

"  Sister,  do  not  despair.     God  has  not  left  you  friendless." 

She  was  roused  from  these  thoughts  by  the  merry  voices  of  her 
children,  as  Martin  and  Patience,  both  laden,  hurried  back  to  her. 


46  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Look,  Christie.  He's  a  perfect  love  !  "  said  Patience  ;  and,  unfold 
ing  an  old  shawl  which  inwrapped  him,  she  disclosed  a  fine  large  pup, 
soft  and  black  as  a  piece  of  silk.  The  lazy  fellow,  only  half  awakened, 
put  out  his  paws,  and  gave  a  great  yawn.  Then  he  jumped  out  of  her 
arms  ;  and,  as  she  began  to  laugh  and  run,  he  caught  the  infection, 
jumping,  running,  barking,  while  Christie  clapped  his  hands  with 
glee. 

"  Rex,  Rex,  my  beauty  !  "  cried  the  girl,  stooping  and  catching  him. 
"  There's  your  master,"  and  she  put  him  close  by  Christie. 

It  is  curious  how  animals  will  sometimes  almost  instantly  attach 
themselves  to  persons.  From  the  moment  Christie's  small  hand  rested 
on  Rex's  head,  the  dog  seemed  truly  to  belong  to  him.  From  that 
moment  he  never  willingly  left  him. 

"  See  what  Martin  has  brought  us,  mother  !  "  and  Patience  tried 
to  snatch  a  roll  of  something  Martin  was  holding  out  of  her  reach. 
After  teasing  her  a  little,  he  undid  the  parcel, — a  cheap  woollen 
goods,  gray  for  Patience,  and  a  darker  shade  for  Tabitha.  These  were 
Martin's  treasured  gifts.  To  buy  them  he  had  denied  himself  every 
comfort  on  his  long  ride.  But  his  privations  were  forgotten  in 
his  mother's  smile  of  thanks,  and  Patience's  delight.  She  passed 
her  hands  over  the  cloth  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur,  and  said 
it  was  the  prettiest  thing  she  ever  saw,  and  she'd  look  so  grand  in 
it  that  they  would  have  to  tell  her  every  moment  she  was  only 
Patience,  or  she  would  surely  fancy  herself  a  great  lady  visiting 
them. 

Then  Martin  took  from  his  pocket  a  well-filled  purse,  and  gave  it  to 
his  mother,  with  an  account  of  his  sales.  She  was  both  surprised  and 
delighted.  They  had  realized  more  than  double  the  amount  they  could 

have  made  if  the  produce  had  been  sold  in  G .  And  Patience's 

bright  eyes  grew  larger  and  larger  at  their  riches,  as  the  money  was 
counted  out,  and  put  away  in  a  small  bag  that  answered  as  bank  for 


PEACEFUL   DAYS.  47 

them.  It  was  late  when  sleep  came  to  the  little  family,  but  it  was  a 
blessed  wakefulness.  Each  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  that  they  had 
passed  through  the  bitter  waters  of  adversity,  and  stood  now  on  the 
shore,  whence  life  was  opening  in  ways  of  happiness  and  peace. 


48 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

FAIR    PATIENCE. 

'A KING  with  the  earliest  sunbeam,  Patience  was  the 
first  astir.  She  started  up  out  of  happy  dreams,  to 
feel  under  the  pillow  for  the  new  dress.  Then,  with 
a  little  hug,  assuring  herself  of  its  reality,  she  slipped 
out  of  bed,  and  quickly  dressed,  casting  many  a  loving 
look  at  the  careworn  face  of  her  mother,  and  Chris 
tie's  lovely  head  resting  on  her  breast,  while  —  and 
.  Patience  nearly  laughed  outright  —  cuddling  close  to 
Christie  lay  Rex,  making  himself  perfectly  at  home, 
and  taking  more  than  his  share  of  the  small  bed.  In 
a  curtained  corner  Martin  slept,  and  soundly,  too, 
Miss  Patience  felt  assured,  by  his  deep  and  regular  breathing.  Clos 
ing  the  door,  she  lit  the  fire  in  the  small  kitchen  they  had  added  to  the 
cabin,  and,  busy  as  a  bee,  prepared  the  simple  breakfast  for  the  sleepers. 
It  was  ready  almost  as  soon  as  they  were  ready  for  it.  With 
such  happy  hearts,  it  seemed  a  true  feast.  After  breakfast  they 
all,  even  including  Tabitha,  went  to  see  Matthew  and  Christine. 
And  so  early  was  their  visit,  that  they  reached  the  house  before 
Matthew  had  left  for  the  fields,  where  he  had  already  begun  har 
vesting. 

Martin  carried  a  large  box,  which  he  put  at  Christine's  feet,  hand 
ing  Matthew  the  bills,  and,  at  his  request,  opening  the  box. 

"  Oh  !  "  in  varied   tones  of   delight  from    Patience,  who    again,  in 


FAIR  PATIENCE.  49 

the  fulness  of  her  spirits,  executed  a  pas  seul.  It  was  one  of  her 
merry  ways,  to  sing  and  dance  whenever  she  was  much  pleased.  She 
would  say,  extremes  of  pleasure  paralyzed  her  tongue,  and  some  fatal 
accident  would  happen  if  her  feet  did  not  come  to  the  rescue.  And 
so  she  laughed,  and  clapped  her  hands,  and  danced  around  on  the 
nimble  feet,  as  Tabitha  gently  lifted  from  the  box  various  articles  of 
feminine  attire.  And  Christine  clung  to  the  loving  father  who  had 
been,  as  ever,  thoughtful  of  his  "birdling."  He  was  murmuring  the 
word  over  and  over  again,  as  he  caressed  the  fair  head,  that,  tall  as  he 
was,  rested  on  his  shoulder. 

He,  too,  felt  an  almost  childish  pleasure  in  the  finery  that  a  little 
money  and  a  few  written  words  had  obtained.  And  he  smiled  as  he 
thought  how  fair  and  bonny  his  child  would  look. 

Glancing  at  Patience,  the  girl's  beauty  seemed,  for  the  first  time,  to 
fully  burst  upon  him.  Of  medium  height,  lissome,  and  grace  itself, 
with  the  fair  hair  hanging  down  her  back  in  two  great  braids,  and  tiny 
rings,  too  short  to  be  fastened  back,  falling  over  the  lovely  face  flushed 
with  excitement  and  exercise  ;  the  eyes,  blue  as  a  summer's  sky,  now 
sparkling  with  merriment,  now  uplifted  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  as 
some  new  bauble  was  held  up  for  admiration  ;  the  long,  curling  lashes, 
and  delicate  brows,  looking  almost  black  in  contrast  with  the  blond 
hair ;  and  then  the  hands,  soft  and  dimpled  as  a  baby's  ;  and  the  arms, 
of  which  just  enough  were  visible  to  suggest  what  snowy  beauties 
were  hidden,  as  they  curved  themselves  above  the  head,  or  held  out 
the  drapery  of  this  Terpsichore,  and  such  a  lovely  one  that  the  others 
of  the  immortal  nine  would  have  hung  their  heads  with  envy  were  they 
to  join  hands  with  her. 

The  smile  faded  from  the  old  man's  face  ;  and  he  said,  almost 
involuntarily,  — 

"  What  a  pity,  Patience,  thou  art  so  pretty  !  " 

"  Am  I  pretty  ? "  and  the  lovely  face  flushed  to  a  deep  rose-red  as 


50  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

these  unexpected  words  fell  from  lips  that,  to  the  girl,  were  second 
only  to  the  God  he  had  taught  her  to  worship. 

"  O  Matthew,  dear  Matthew,  do  not  say  it  is  a  pity,  since  it  makes 
me  glad !  I  love  every  thing  pretty,  and  pity  every  thing  that  is  not 
pretty.  And  now  I  needs  must  love  myself  ;  for  surely  I  must  be 
pretty,  since  you  say  it."  And  then,  somehow,  the  brightness  died 
out  of  her  face ;  and  the  figure,  but  a  moment  since  all  life  and  motion, 
became  perfectly  still.  And  yet,  still  looking  at  her,  Matthew  sighed 
again  ;  for  he  could  not  say  which  was  most  lovely,  the  laughing  sprite, 
or  this  quiet  girl,  whose  unwonted  gravity  so  became  her.  Sighed ;  for 
her  beauty  was  a  fatality  in  this  land  wherein  some  lustful  man  of 
power  had  but  to  desire  it,  and  the  young  lamb  would  be  sacrificed. 
And  such  beauty  could  not  long  remain  unnoticed. 

All  through  the  working-hours  of  the  day,  Matthew  thought  of  and 
prayed  for  Patience,  —  prayed  she  might  be  saved  from  the  fate  of 
awakening  into  life  the  jaded  fancy  of  an  old  Mormon.  He  prayed 
that  a  haven  might  open  for  her  as  for  his  Christine,  —  that  a  true 
lover  would  see  and  wear  upon  his  heart  this  beauteous  flower.  Or 
that,  rather,  death  would  claim  her  ere  to  her  would  fall  the  sad  fate 
he  had  seen  overtake  other  maidens  as  young  and  almost  as  fair.  And 
then  he  bowed  his  head,  and  said  the  solemn  words  with  which  he 
always  finished  each  prayer,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 

"  Thy  will  be  done  !  "  sounding  first  from  the  shadows  of  Mount 
Olivet,  and  echoing  through  all  the  centuries,  as  strong  souls  live,  to 
teach  the  weaker  ones  the  thorny  path  to  bliss. 


GOOD-BY  TO    OLD  FRIENDS. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

GOOD-BY     TO     OLD     FRIENDS. 

'ABITHA  was   taking  a  day  of  rest,  the  first 
for  many  years.     She  and  Patience  were  with 
Christine,  putting  finishing-touches  to  the  wed 
ding-dress,  and  packing  the  modest  trunk  that 
would  accompany  her  to   Salt   Lake  ;  Christie 
watching  them  quietly,  and  Rex  sleeping  at  his 
side.     Lazy  Rex  !  —  a  regular  puppy,  large  as 
he  was,  asleep  always,  except  when  eating,  or  in 
mischief. 

Just  now  Tabitha  was  holding  in  her  hand  a  golden 
cross  and  chain.     It  was  the  one  relic  of  her  girlhood. 
An  heirloom   in  her  family,  it  had  been  handed  down 
from  mother  to  daughter  since  the  Pilgrims  had  crossed  the  ocean  in 
their  little  barks,  and  landed  on  the  rocky  shore  of  their  New  England. 
"  Take  it,  Christine,  with  our  love.     And  may  it  be  to  you  a  talis 
man  of  happiness ! "  she  said,  as  she  clasped  it  around  the  girl's  neck, 
and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

Christine  had  often  heard  the  story,  and  admired  the  workmanship 
of  this  ornament  that  had  outlived  so  many  wearers.  And  she  knew 
how  dearly  it  was  prized. 

"  Tabitha,"  —  the  girl's  eyes  had  filled  with  tears  at  this  proof  of 
affection,  —  "while  I  thank  you,  I  cannot  accept  this.  It  belongs 
of  right  to  Patience." 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


"  No,  no,"  said  Patience,  her  own  merry  self  shining  out  in  the 
dimples  of  her  sweet  face.  "  It  is  much  too  grand  for  a  simple  maiden 
like  me.  It  suits  you.  O  Christine,  take  it,  please  take  it  !  and  then, 
whenever  you  wear  it,  you  will  think  of  us  who  love  you."  Christine 

could  not  resist  the  pleader. 

"  I  will  take  it,  and  treas 
ure  it  second  only  to  my  lit 
tle  ring,"  she  said,  smilingly 
returning  Christie's  wistful 
look.  Then,  while  a  faint 
blush  stole  over  the  fair 
face,  — 

"  Malcolm  comes  to-mor 
row.  Father  will  perform  the 
marriage  ceremony  to-morrow 
night.  You  are  all  to  come. 
It  will  be  late,  —  about  ten 
o'clock.  Early  the  next  morn 
ing  we  will  start  for  Salt 
Lake.  Malcolm's  uncle  will 
meet  us.  He  knows  of  Mal 
colm's  abjuring  polygamy, 
and  that  we  will  be  married 
according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Christian  church.  Once  in  Salt  Lake,  Mr.  Smith  thinks  there  will  be 
no  question  of  how  we  were  married,  and  no  necessity  of  going  through 
the  Mormon  forms." 

"  Will  Matthew  remain  long  away  ?  "  asked  Tabitha. 
"  No  ;  only  a  few  days.     He  cannot  spare  time  from  his  harvesting. 
And,  oh ! "  Christine  added,  while  her  voice  trembled,  and  the  tears 
started  forth,  hanging  for  an  instant  on  her  lashes,  and  then  trickling 


"SHE   CLASPED   IT   AROUND   THE   GIRL'S   NECK.': 


GOOD-BY  TO    OLD  FRIENDS.  53 

down  her  cheeks,  "you  will  be  watchful  of  father's  health.  If  he 
should  be  ever  so  little  sick,  send  for  me.  Don't  ask  him,  but  send  me 
a  telegram ;  and  I  will  be  with  him  as  soon  as  love  can  bring  me." 

She  turned  away  her  head  ;  for  now  the  tears  were  raining  down 
her  face  faster  and  faster,  as  she  thought  of  parting  with  him  who  had 
sheltered  her  whole  life. 

Christie  had  never  seen  Christine  weep.  He  now  put  out  his 
hands  supplicatingly. 

"  Don't  cry,  Christine.     Your  tears  fall  on  my  heart." 

He  was  trembling  violently.  Frightened  at  his  emotion,  Christine 
threw  open  the  window,  Tabitha  took  him  in  her  arms,  and  Patience 
bethought  herself  of  Rex  for  a  diversion. 

"  Up,  lazy  doggy  !  "  she  said,  giving  his  ear  such  a  pinch,  that 
he  opened  his  eyes,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  barked  furiously,  while  he 
rushed  about  the  room,  seeking  the  enemy  who  dared  disturb  his  slum 
bers.  Finally,  coming  back  to  Christie,  he  rubbed  his  cold,  wet  nose 
into  the  thin  hand  hanging  listlessly  over  the  mother's  arm.  Such  a 
persistent  nose  it  was,  that  it  kept  on  poking  and  poking  Christie's 
hand,  until  the  hand  wakened  to  life,  and  caressed  him. 

Christie's  delicate  frame  seemed  too  frail  for  the  spirit  within. 
Intense  emotion  generally  produced  long  fainting-spells,  in  which  he 
would  lie  like  one  dead ;  and  each  time  his  mother  would  hang  over 
him  in  agonized  suspense. 

The  surety  that  he  would  not  long  be  spared  to  her  made  him  all 
the  more  precious  to  the  mother-heart.  Now,  however,  he  was  soon 
sufficiently  restored  to  lie  on  the  lounge,  and  watch  the  others,  while 
Rex  enjoyed  a  comfortable  nap  on  the  floor  beside  him. 

The  day  passed  quietly.  Warned  by  Christie's  threatened  attack, 
the  girls  spoke  only  on  cheerful  topics  ;  and  Tabitha  found  plenty  of 
stitches  necessary  in  Christine's  finery  to  keep  her  busy. 

At  last  it  was  done,  and  each  article  folded  away  in  the   trunk  ; 


54  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

while  lying  on  a  chair,  carefully  covered,  was  the  soft  white  dress  that 
Matthew  had  chosen  for  Christine's  wedding-robe.  The  golden  cross 
was  there  too,  and  on  her  finger  gleamed  the  little  ring  she  was  always 
to  wear  for  Christie's  sake. 

The  "good-by  "  was  over ;  and  Christine,  who  had  walked  with  them 
to  the  gate,  stood  watching  them  down  the  road.  Martin  came,  just 
before  the  hour  for  leaving,  to  carry  Christie  home.  He,  too,  had  his 
parting  words  with  Christine. 

"  Over  ten  years  ago,  Christine,  when  I  was  such  a  little  fellow,  — 
nearly  eleven,  wasn't  I,  mother? — you  first  came  to  us.  How  I  re 
member  that  afternoon,  when  all  in  white,  standing  near  Matthew,  you 
put  out  your  hands  to  us,  and  said,  '  Let  us  be  friends  ! '  And  friend 
have  you  ever  been  to  us,  —  the  dearest,  the  best.  You  always  seemed 
an  angel  to  me,  —  an  angel  of  peace,  leaving  some  of  your  blessed 
atmosphere  in  every  home  you  visited." 

This  was  a  very  long  speech  for  Martin,  who  generally  was  not  too 
quick  of  tongue.  But  deep  feeling  had  given  him  the  power  of  ex 
pression,  and  had  called  up  the  tears  that  glistened  in  his  honest  blue 
eyes.  Holding  her  slender  hands  fast  in  his  own,  he  kissed  first  one 
and  then  the  other,  letting  them  fall  gently,  reverently,  and  said 
"Good-by." 

Then  Christie,  "  Take  me  in  your  arms,  Christine.  Am  I  too 
heavy  ?  " 

And  when  she  shook  her  head,  —  'twas  all  the  answer  she  had 
power  to  make,  —  he  put  out  his  arms  ;  and  she  took  him  to  her  heart 
as  she  had  done  many  and  many  a  time  when  he  was  a  wee  baby. 
For  a  moment  he  kept  quite  still,  looking  at  her  with  the  old  adoring 
look  in  his  wonderful  eyes,  too  large  and  bright  for  the  wan  little  face. 
He  was  so  small  and  slight !  —  eleven  years  old,  but  so  delicate  he 
hardly  seemed  half  his  age. 

"  Good-by,  my  Christine,"    he    said.      "  I  will    think  of   you  every 


GOOD-BY  TO    OLD  FRIEft.DS.  55 

hour  that  I  live.  Kiss  my  eyes,  that  when  they  grow  weary  watching 
for  you,  who  may  never  come  again,  I  can  close  them,  and  feel  that 
my  Christine's  lips  have  touched  them." 

Kissing  not  only  the  eyes,  but  cheeks,  lips,  and  brow,  she  gave  him 
to  Martin's  outstretched  arms,  who,  starting  off  with  his  precious 
burden,  headed  the  little  cavalcade.  Then  an  embrace  and  a  whis 
pered  "  God  bless  you  !  "  from  Tabitha,  hurrying  to  catch  up  with  Mar 
tin.  And  a  long,  loving,  sisterly  kiss  from  Patience,  whose  face,  wet 
with  her  fast-falling  tears,  seemed  to  Christine,  even  in  that  moment  of 
parting,  the  fairest  thing  her  eyes  had  ever  rested  on.  Tears,  so  dis 
figuring  to  most  women,  seemed  only  to  add  to  her  beauty.  The  large 
blue  eyes,  brimming  over  with  tears,  had  never  looked  more  lovely. 

"  Good-by,  good-by,  my  dearest  friend.  I  cannot  fancy  what  our 
lives  will  be  without  you.  But,  if  only  you  are  happy,  we  will  be  con 
tent."  And  then,  with  one  more  close  embrace,  she  ran  swiftly  away, 
hanging  her  head  like  some  sweet  flower  heavy  with  dew. 

How  graceful  she  was,  running  and  springing  along  !  And  then, 
after  she  had  gone  a  little  distance,  turning  suddenly,  as  if  for  a  last 
embrace,  she  held  out  two  longing  arms  to  the  friend  of  her  life. 

And  Christine  stood,  still  watching  them  ;  the  tears,  she  had  with 
difficulty  repressed,  stealing  down  her  face,  one  after  the  other,  in  a 
slow,  sad  stream. 

Her  girlhood,  with  its  peacefulness,  was  leaving  her  forever.  The 
quiet  life  of  doing  good,  wherein  she  had  been  so'  truly  loved,  would 
soon  seem  of  the  past.  And  the  future,  —  what  did  it  hold  ? 

It  was  thus  Matthew  found  her  on  his  return  from  the  harvest-field 

"  In  tears,  my  birdling  ?  "  he  said,  as  he  folded  her  in  those  arms 
that  had  loved  and  tended  her  from  the  first  moment  of  her  life. 
"  My  Christine  must  not  grieve  too  much  at  leaving  her  older  friends 
for  a  newer,  dearer  one.  Ah,  my  birdling !  I  could  not  give  thee  up, 
did  I  not  see  thy  own  happiness  in  it.  Many  a  sad  hour  have  I  passed, 


56  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

when,  as  each  day  seemed  to  bring  new  graces  to  my  child,  I  dreaded 
lest  some  Mormon  would  snatch  you  from  me,  and  try  to  force  you 
into  this  terrible  polygamy.  But  the  Lord  "  —  and  Matthew  uncovered 
his  head  —  "  has  rebuked  his  servant  with  his  goodness.  He  has  sent 
you  a  lover,  noble  and  true,  whose  eyes,  touched  by  the  light  of  your 
love,  can  see  through  the  mists  and  darkness  that  o'ercloud  this  un 
happy  country.  He  is  of  influence.  He  has  gifts  to  command  the 
listening  ear  of  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Who  knows  but  he 
may  be  the  chosen  one  to  drive  the  serpent  from  this  earthly  paradise  ? 
May  his  voice  sound  out  like  God's  thunder,  and  wake  to  action  the 
mighty  power  that  struck  from  off  the  limbs  of  our  negro  brothers 
the  cruel  chains  of  slavery  !  See,  even  now  thy  Malcolm  comes." 

A   dust   on   the    road,  a   rapidly   approaching   carriage,  and,  in    a 
moment  more,  Christine  was  clasped  in  the  arms  of  her  lover. 


THE  SOLEMN  PROMISE. 


57 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    SOLEMN    PROMISE. 

FTER  a  little  they  joined  Matthew.  Malcolm  pro 
posed  it.  "  For  was  he  not  to  have  her  for  all  time  ?  " 
he  said  to  himself.  And  Christine,  even  in  her  joy 
feeling  the  loneliness  of  her  father,  who  was  about  to 
lose  the  child  of  his  old  age,  was  thankful  for  this 
proof  of  Malcolm's  unselfishness.  The  three  were 
sitting  at  the  open  door,  discussing  a  subject  most 
important  to  all.  Malcolm  was  speaking. 

"  My  uncle  says,  the  sooner  we  are  married,  and 
away,  the  better.  There  will  be  less  time  for  com 
ment,  and  a  better  chance  that  the  manner  of  our  marriage  be  not 
suspected.  He  thinks  it  would  be  safe,  once  in  Salt  Lake,  that  we 
should  go  through  the  Endowment  House,  and  be  '  sealed  '  to  each 
other.  But,"  — feeling  her  hand  tremble,  and  marking  the  look  of  re 
pugnance  that  came  over  Christine's  face,  —  "  unless  it  becomes  a 
matter  of  absolute  personal  safety,  this  shall  not  be  required  of  you,  my 
darling,"  he  tenderly  murmured.  "  Can  we  not,  however,  be  married 
to-night  ?  Speak,  Matthew.  Tell  her  you  think  it  is  best." 

For  a  moment  the  old  man  was  silent.  It  was  only  one  day  sooner. 
And  yet  how  hard  to  part  with  even  one  day  of  his  darling's  sweet 
companionship  !  But  when  had  he,  during  the  whole  course  of  his 
long  life,  allowed  self  to  influence  the  least  action  ?  Hushing  the 
voice  of  his  own  heart,  he  said  solemnly,  — 


58  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  If  my  Christine  has  fully  resolved  to  be  your  wife,"  —  and  he 
paused,  for  his  trembling  voice  told  of  his  weakening  self-control. 

"If!" — and  Malcolm,  who  had  felt  so  perfectly  secure  of  Chris 
tine,  and  of  late  had  been  growing  just  a  little  careless,  started  to  his 
feet. 

"  If  !  Christine,  is  there  a  doubt  of  it  ?  Do  I  not  love  you  utterly 
and  entirely  ?  For  your  sake  am  I  not  renouncing  the  religion  and  laws 
of  my  childhood,  and  perhaps  my  best  chance  of  worldly  advance  ? " 

Why,  just  as  he  uttered  this  last,  did  a  half -sigh  involuntarily 
escape  him  ? 

Hearing  this  sigh,  the  girl  answered  it,  rather  than  his  words. 

"Malcolm,"  —  her  tuneful  voice,  full  of  emotion,  made  every  word 
harmonious,  —  "  are  you  quite  sure  of  your  own  nature  ?  You  are  a 
man,  I  a  woman.  No  childish  weakness  must  blind  us  now,  and  mar 
our  whole  lives.  Have  you  truly,  in  your  inmost  soul,  abjured  polyg 
amy  ?  Do  you  really  feel  its  sinfulness  ?  And  one  question  more. 
Are  you  sure  your  love  for  me,  and  mine  for  you,  will  satisfy  you,  and 
make  you  cease  to  desire  a  foremost  place  in  Utah  ?  " 

Looking  at  her,  listening  to  her,  his  passion,  like  a  torrent,  swept 
away  every  doubt. 

All  day,  while  riding  towards  his  love,  he  had  over  and  over  again 
assured  himself  he  had  too  easily  yielded  to  Christine's  foolish  scruples. 
The  marriage  by  her  grandfather  was  all  well  enough.  John  Smith  had 
once  told  him,  half  smiling,  half  sneering,  that  such  a  marriage  would 
not  be  recognized  in  Utah.  That  when  he  grew  tired  of  his  new 
love,  and  wanted  another,  he  would  find  it  easy  to  set  her  aside  ;  and, 
being  thus  married,  she  could  not  ask  for  support.  The  only  trouble 
would  be,  that,  were  it  known,  each  of  the  contracting  parties,  and  the 
officiating  clergyman,  would  stand  in  danger  of  a  visit  from  a  certain 
arm  of  the  Mormon  church  that  generally  leaves  behind  it  unpleasant 
results. 


THE  SOLEMN  PROMISE.  59 

At  the  time  Malcolm  had  answered  with  all  the  impetuosity  of 
indignant  and  loving  youth.  But  somehow  his  uncle's  words  came 
back  to  him,  repeating  themselves  in  his  memory. 

It  was  a  power  that  John  Smith  possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree. 
He  could  so  nearly  estimate  people's  natures,  that  he  would,  by  a  seem 
ingly  chance  remark,  touch  the  inner  springs.  Thus  his  words  would 
bear  fruit,  and  such  fruit  as  he  had  desired  when  throwing  the  seed 
upon  its  congenial  soil. 

He  knew  Malcolm  thoroughly.  Rather  liked  him,  and  intended 
to  advance  him  on  the  high-road  of  ambition.  First,  he  must  have 
more  money.  And  then  he  thought  of  the  old  Scandinavian  peasant, 
who  had  always  seemed  to  him  the  embodiment  of  one  of  the  famous 
Norse  kings  of  his  native  land.  He  had  grown  rich,  and  his  grand 
child  would  naturally  inherit  every  thing. 

Of  that  grandchild  he  had  only  a  vague  idea.  During  his  short 
visits,  made  at  long  intervals,  he  had  been  somewhat  surprised  at  her 
beauty  and  grace,  and  when  she  spoke,  which  was  not  often,  by  a 
correctness  of  expression,  and  melody  of  voice,  rarely  found. 

She  had  a  dignity  of  manner  that  he  thought  would  impress  the 
fashionables  of  Washington.  And  he  had  decided  next  term  to  take 
Malcolm  to  Washington  with  him,  if  —  and  he  put  this  proviso  to  his 
intention  —  he  could  be  content  with  one  wife  for  one  winter. 

Strange  anomaly  !  In  the  Congress  instituted  to  change,  amend, 
and  extend  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  as  the  liberty  and  protec 
tion  of  its  citizens  required,  and  one  of  whose  laws  was  the  punish 
ment  of  polygamy,  a  polygamist  boldly  takes  his  seat,  sharing  with 
his  associates  in  the  deliberations  of  Congress.  And,  while  some 
poorer  wretch  was  wearing  away  his  hours  in  prison  for  bigamy,  this 
man,  who  boldly  flaunted  his  bigamy  in  the  very  capital  of  the  land, 
lived  openly  with  the  several  women  whom  he  called  "  wives  !  " 

He   looked  on    Malcolm's  abjuration  of   polygamy  as  child's  play. 


6o 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


It  rather  amused  him  to  see  how  powerful  an  influence  the  passion 
love  could  exercise  over  the  young.  And  one  day,  when  his  nephew 
was  telling  of  his  solemn  intention  never  to  take  any  other  than  Chris 
tine  to  wife,  he 
had  looked  up 
quickly  from 
the  book  he  was 
seeming  to  read, 
and  said,  — 

"  Better  keep 
this  intention  as 
a  simple  resolu 
tion.  It  is  as 
well  not  to  take 
false  oaths. 
And,  if  such  an 
oath  be  made, 
you  would  sure 
ly  falsify  it.  As 
for  the  mar 
riage,"  —  and 
he  had  finished 
with  the  words 


"BETTER  KEEP  THIS  INTENTION  AS  A  SIMPLE  RESOLUTION." 


already  told. 

The  whole 

of  this  speech  lived  in  Malcolm's  memory.  And  so,  during  the  hours  of 
his  quiet  drive  alone  in  the  carriage  that  each  moment  was  taking  him 
nearer  Christine,  he  had  fully  determined  on  recalling  his  promise  of 
abjuring  polygamy.  He  had  not,  however,  calculated  the  magnetism 
of  her  presence.  And,  when  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  he  forgot 
every  thing  but  her,  and  his  love  for  her.  Even  the  little  sigh  that 


THE  SOLEMN  PROMISE.  6 1 

escaped  him  was  rather  for  what  might  have  been,  than  that  he  had 
the  slightest  intention  of  asking  release  from  the  given  promise.  But 
now,  when  her  voice  ceased  its  music,  and  the  lustrous  dark  eyes 
looked  full  in  his  own,  seeking  to  read  his  inmost  soul,  and  he  knew  he 
must  lose  her  forever,  or  forever  bind  himself  to  monogamy,  he  did  not 
feel  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"  Am  I  sure  of  my  own  nature  ?  Sure  your  love  will  satisfy  me  ? 
Darling,  darling,  you  cannot  know  what  love  is,  or  you  would  not  even 
ask  these  questions.  Do  you  think  a  man  who  has  once  loved  you 
could  ever  waste  a  thought  on  another  woman  ?  When  Matthew  mar 
ries  you  to  me,  and  me  to  you,  it  is  for  all  time  and  eternity.  Beyond 
you,  I  desire  nothing.  For  you  I  would  accomplish  any  thing  a  man 
may  do." 

How  brave  and  handsome  he  looked,  his  face  beaming  with  the 
earnestness  of  his  words !  And,  at  the  moment,  he  was  both  earnest 
and  honest.  Alas  that  it  was  only  for  the  moment !  Who  could  see 
beneath  this  beautiful  seeming  the  undercurrents  of  a  capricious  and 
selfish  nature  ?  Not  the  old  man  watching  his  radiant  face,  and  dream 
ing  for  him  and  Christine  such  glorious  possibilities.  Not  the  fair 
woman,  whose  eyes  were  the  windows  of  a  strong,  true  soul,  and  who 
loved  this  man  with  her  whole  heart. 

So,  once  more  secure  of  his  prize,  Malcolm  resumed  his  seat,  and 
began  urging  their  immediate  marriage. 

After  a  little,  it  was  decided  as  he  wished.  And  Matthew,  rising, 
said  he  would  tell  Tabitha  of  the  change.  "  You  know,  Malcolm,  we 
will  want  two  witnesses;  and  Martin  has  just  attained  his  majority." 
He  walked  away  on  the  road  to  Tabitha's,  leaving  the  lovers  saunter 
ing  towards  the  apple-tree  which  had  first  heard  the  story  of  their  love. 


62 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER     IX. 

"  WHOM    GOD    HATH   JOINED,"    ETC. 

>N  eventful  day  had  gone  to  its  rest,  and  night's  starry 
mantle  inwrapped  the  sleeping  world.  In  all  the 
little  town,  there  was  not  a  glimmer  of  light  to  be 
seen.  Outside,  Matthew's  house  looked  as  dark  and 
quiet  as  the  rest  ;  but  inside,  with  doors  and  win 
dows  tightly  fastened,  a  man  and  woman  were  being 
bound  together  for  life.  They  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  under  a  large  lamp  which  shone  down  on 
them  through  the  garlands  Patience  had  fastened 
around  it. 

We  must  make  the  room  look  fresh  and  bright,"  she 
had  said  to  Martin,  when  Matthew  had  summoned  them  to  the  wed 
ding.  Whispering  to  her  mother,  Martin  and  she  had  scampered  off, 
and,  plucking  every  flowery  bush  they  could  find,  had  decorated  the 
sitting-room  in  Matthew's  house,  where  they  had  often  played  as  chil 
dren.  They  hung  blankets  over  windows  and  doors,  and,  covering 
them  with  garlands,  transformed  the  little  room  into  a  sylvan  bower. 
Then,  closing  the  door,  they  ran  home  to  make  their  simple  prepara 
tions  for  the  wedding  of  their  friend.  They  had  said  their  farewell  in 
the  morning,  all  agreeing  that  no  word  of  sadness  should  mar  the  first 
moments  of  Christine's  new  life. 

At  ten  o'clock,  as  quietly  as  if  on  a  guilty  errand,  Tabitha  and  her 
children  came  to  Matthew's  ;  and  at  half-past  ten  the  heavy  blanket 


"  WHOM   GOD  HATH  JOINED,"  ETC.  63 

that  hung  over  the  sitting-room  door  was  lifted,  and  Matthew  appeared, 
leading  Christine  all  in  white,  her  only  ornaments  the  golden  cross  and 
her  own  loveliness.  As  Malcolm  beheld  the  fair  vision,  there  came 
to  his  thoughts  the  lines,  — 

"  A  daughter  of  the  gods, 
Divinely  tall,  and  most  divinely  fair," 

they  so  aptly  described  his  bride. 

He  took  her  fair  hand  in  his,  and  together  they  stood  before 
Matthew  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

How  solemn  the  moment !  When  the  words  rang  out  in  the  still 
ness,  "  If  any  one  knows  any  just  cause  or  impediment,"  why  did  not 
some  angel  stay  the  old  man  who  was  wedding  his  cherished  lamb  to 
bitter  woe  ? 

The  only  witnesses  were  Tabitha  and  her  children,  —  Martin  stand 
ing  behind  her  ;  Christie  on  her  lap,  pale  and  unearthly  as  a  spirit  ; 
and  at  her  side,  with  eyes  fixed  on  Christine  and  Malcolm,  Patience 
was  kneeling.  In  a  plain  cotton  gown,  with  a  wreath  of  wild-flowers 
crowning  the  blond  hair,  she  looked  an  Undine,  with  her  new-born  soul 
shining  through  the  beautiful  eyes. 

"  Malcolm,  dost  thou  take  this  woman  to  be  thy  wedded  wife  ?  " 

"  I  do."     The  answer  came  clear  and  firm. 

"  Christine,"  —  a  slight  tremor  in  the  voice,  as,  for  a  moment,  the 
minister  yielded  to  the  father,  —  "  dost  thou  take  this  man  for  thy 
husband  ?  " 

"I  do." 

"Whom  God  hath  joined  together-let  no  man  put  asunder." 

It  was  all  over.  His  for  life  !  And  Christine's  fate  was  sealed. 
Then  Matthew  touched  Malcolm's  hand,  and  said,  - 

"  You  solemnly  swear  to  marry  no  other  while  this  your  true  and 
lawful  wife  lives  ?  " 


64 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


"  I  do,"  said  Malcolm. 

With  fervor  he  kissed  the  Bible  Matthew  held  towards  him.  Even 
while  he  was  taking  the  oath,  his  mind  was  not  on  it.  He  was  think 
ing  of  what  a  sensation  Christine  would  create  among  his  friends  in 
Salt  Lake.  Her  gifts  of  beauty,  wealth,  and  conversation  would  soon 


CHRISTINE'S   FATE   WAS   SEALED. 


make  her  a  noted  person.  And  he  felt  delighted  with  himself  for 
gaining  such  a  wife.  And  yet  he  looked  so  handsome,  so  earnest,  as 
he  stood  beside  her,  the  solemn  pledge  seemed  to  impart  its  sacredness 
to  his  great  beauty. 

Soon,  with  loving  words  and  wishes,  their  friends  had  bidden  them 
good-night,  going  quietly  homewards  through  the  silent  country-town, 
each  thinking  of  Christine,  each  praying  for  her  happiness. 

In  the  early  morning  a  carriage  waited  at  Matthew's  gate,  —  the 


"  WHOM  GOD  HATH  JOINED,"  ETC.  65 

same  Malcolm  had  driven  over  the  previous  evening.  He  stood  at 
the  horses'  heads,  looking  a  little  impatient  as  Matthew  and  Christine 
walked  slowly  down  the  path.  She  stepped  on  a  carpet  of  flowers. 
"  The  dear  children  !  "  she  said  ;  for  she  recognized  the  hands  of  Pa 
tience  and  Martin  in  this  last  evidence  of  affection.  And  yet,  with  all 
this  devotion  around  her,  this  woman  had  given  her  heart  to  a  man 
almost  a  stranger  to  her,  —  with  him  was  going  away  from  home  and 
friends.  And  she  was  content.  Such  a  mighty  power  is  love ! 

They  were  seated  in  the  carriage.  A  crack  of  the  whip,  and  they 
were  off,  leaving  only  a  cloud  of  dust  to  tell  of  their  departure,  as 
the  sun  rose  higher  and  higher  over  the  waking  world,  and  the  town 
of  G took  up  its  busy  labors  of  harvesting. 


66 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    X. 

CHRISTIE'S  VISION. 

WEEK  had  passed  since  Christine's  wedding.     Most 
,  anxious  days  at  Tabitha's,  for  Christie  had  been  ill. 
As  the  sun  was   rising  on   the   clay  of   Christine's 
departure,  he  started  up  from  sleep,  and,  clasping 
his  hands,  cried,  — 

"  Mother,   mother,    she    has    gone,   and    I    shall 
never  see  her  again  !  " 

Tabitha,  who  had   been   sitting  at  the  window 
watching  for  Martin  and  Patience,  started  towards 
the  bed,  and  only  had  time  to  reach  the  child  as  he 
fell  back  in  one  of  his  alarming  fainting-fits. 
So  fair,  so  frail,  and  Death's  own  image  !  the  dark  lashes  resting 
on  the  white  cheeks,  and  the  nerveless  little  hands  slipping  away  from 
Tabitha's,  as  she  frantically  strove  by  rubbing,  and  other  restoratives, 
to  bring  back  some  signs  of  life. 

Martin  and  Patience  found  her  thus  on  their  return  from  strewing 
the  flowers  on  the  pathway  of  Christine.  There  was  little  else  done  all 
day  at  the  cabin  but  struggle  against  the  angel  Death,  whose  wings 
seemed  overshadowing  the  dearest  loved  of  all  the  little  family. 

Late  at  night,  while  the  three  still  kept  sad  vigil  by  the  child's 
bedside,  taking  turns  at  rubbing  the  poor  little  body,  and  'trying  every 
means  in  their  power  to  keep  the  fluttering  life  that  at  each  faint 
breath  seemed  about  to  pass  away,  there  came  a  change. 


CHRISTIE'S    VISION.  67 

With  a  smile  so  sweet,  it  seemed  a  glimpse  of  heaven  to  the  anx 
ious  watchers,  the  bright  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  dear  Lord  !  We  are  at  peace.  Dear  mother,  dear 
Matthew."  And,  after  a  little,  "  Martin,  Christine,  and  Patience.  All 
together,  all  happy." 

His  voice  ceased  ;  but  the  smile  still  shone  on  his  face,  and  his 
eyes  seemed  looking  at  something  invisible  to  them.  How  long  he 
would  have  so  remained,  they  knew  not  ;  for  they  held  their  breath, 
and  feared  to  move,  lest  he  might  be  startled  into  a  relapse.  Rex, 
however,  who  had  taken  his  share  of  watching,  refusing  to  leave  Chris 
tie's  side,  when  he  heard  his  voice  sprang  upon  the  bed,  and  began 
licking  his  face  before  they  could  prevent. 

"  My  Rex  !  "     And  a  laugh  came  from  Christie. 

A  laugh  !  It  was  such  an  unexpected  happiness,  that  all  three, 
even  Martin,  fell  on  each  other's  necks,  and  laughed  and  cried,  and 
then  kissed  the  child,  who  seemed  to  have  come  back  to  them  from  a 
distant  land,  —  that  land  so  near,  it  is  ever  touching  our  own,  and  yet 
so  far  away,  so  strange,  so  terrible  ! 

"  Mother,  I  am  hungry." 

"  You  dear  darling  !  "  cried  Patience,  as  she  fairly  flew  into  the 
kitchen,  and  danced  back  with  a  plate  temptingly  arranged,  and  then 
stood  watching  while  Tabitha  fed  him.  At  each  mouthful,  she  and 
Martin  would  hug  each  other  with  delight. 

"  Mother,  darling,"  said  Christie,  resting  in  his  mother's  arms,  "  I 
have  had  a  vision.  So  horrible  at  first,  and  then  so  beautiful.  I  will 
tell  it  to  you." 

"  Not  now.  My  Christie  must  sleep  now.  To-morrow  morning 
tell  us." 

Too  tired  to  do  any  thing  but  smile  his  consent,  he  kissed  the 
anxious,  loving  face  bent  over  him,  and  soon  fell  into  a  deep,  soft 
sleep.  Martin  and  Patience  tiptoed  away  to  their  own  beds,  and,  tired 


68  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

out,  were  also  soon  sleeping.  But  Tabitha,  feeling  sleep  impossible 
to  her,  took  her  favorite  seat  on  the  door-step,  and,  listening  to  the 
soft  breathing  of  her  children,  fell  into  a  reverie.  There  had  awak 
ened  within  her  a  longing  for  her  childhood's  home.  Seen  through 
the  vista  of  weary  years,  how  fair  and  tranquil  seemed  the  old  life  ! 
the  farmhouse  mid  the  grand  old  trees,  and  the  church-spire  gleaming 
brightly  in  the  sunshine.  She  even  heard  the  lowing  of  the  cows 
coming  home  to  the  milking.  And  tripping  down  the  road,  carrying 
the  milk-pails,  was  a  tall,  slim  girl,  dreaming  all  sorts  of  wild  dreams 
of  an  impossible  future.  Was  that  girl  Tabitha  Simpson  ?  Poor  Tab 
itha  sighed  as  the  picture  faded,  and  she  thought  to  what  a  future 
those  dreams  had  brought  her.  But  still  the  old  homestead,  and  the 
faces  of  old  friends,  came  before  her.  Too  late  now  for  her.  But  her 
children  might  have  some  chance  of  a  future  if  only  she  could  get 
them  there  out  of  this  fearful  Utah.  If  it  were  only  possible  for  them 
to  escape  !  She  would  consult  Matthew,  and  he  would  know  how  much 
money  they  would  need  to  pay  their  way  out  of  this  place.  Gradually 
the  thoughts  became  confused.  Matthew,  Christine,  and  her  children 
were  all  with  her,  all  happy ;  and  the  tired  woman  on  the  door-step  fell 
asleep.  She  slept  until  the  daylight's  golden  gladness  shone  full  in 
her  face,  and  wakened  her  to  life  and  labor. 

There  were  some  busy  days  for  them  all  ;  for,  as  soon  as  they 
could  get  him  ready,  Martin  would  start  away  on  another  trip.  Chris 
tie's  illness  had  detained  him  ;  but,  as  soon  as  the  child  seemed  better, 
they  concluded  Martin  had  better  not  wait  longer.  There  was  a  large 
load  of  fresh  vegetables  to  be  packed.  "And  even  a  few  tomatoes  !  " 
Patience  exclaimed  in  triumph,  as  she  ran  exultantly  into  the  cabin, 
holding  one  luscious  red  "  love-apple  "  in  her  hand.  Taking  a  large 
basket,  she  hastened  back  into  the  garden  to  gather  the  ripe  ones,  and 
have  them  packed  before  dark.  Christie,  near  the  open  door,  was 
in  a  chair,  propped  up  by  pillows.  His  face,  more  angelic  than  ever, 


CHRISTIE'S    VISION.  69 

wore  an  expression  of  perfect  peace.  He  had  not  told  his  "vision," 
as  he  called  it. 

"  I  will  wait,"  he  said,  "  until  the  work  of  packing  is  over  ;  and  you 
can  sit  near  me,  and  be  at  rest." 

And  now  the  week  was  near  its  decline,  and  yet  the  hour  of  rest 
seemed  distant. 

"  It  will  come  to-night,  little  brother,"  Patience  had  said,  as  she 
hurried  past  him.  "  We've  only  to  load  the  wagon  ;  and,  as  for  the 
tomatoes,  I'll  soon  have  them  ready." 

Tabitha  was  getting  supper,  Martin  carrying  the  hampers  and  sacks 
of  vegetables  to  the  side  of  the  house  where  the  wagon  stood,  and 
Patience  in  the  tomato-patch.  Since  Christie's  recovery,  the  girl  had 
been  so  thankful,  so  happy,  that,  like  a  bird,  she  was  constantly  burst 
ing  into  song.  How  sweet  the  young  voice  sounded  as  it  floated 
through  the  open  door  !  So  sweet,  that  it  tempted  Christie  into  a 
feeble  refrain.  So  sweet,  that  the  mother  stopped  her  work  fora  look 
at  the  singer.  Her  sunbonnet  had  fallen  off,  her  face  glowing  with 
health  and  youth,  and  the  wind  playing  all  sorts  of  antics  with  the 
soft,  short  hairs  that  could  never  be  coaxed  into  smoothness.  Sleeves 
rolled  up,  showing  arms  white  and  beautiful  enough  for  a  Venus.  On 
the  ground  beside  her,  the  basket,  nearly  filled  with  the  ripe  red  fruit, 
to  whose  numbers  the  busy  fingers  were  quickly  adding ;  and  the 
sunlight,  pouring  over  all,  gave  its  brightness  to  the  lovely  picture. 
Saying  a  few  tender  words  to  Christie,  who  was  rubbing  Rex's  great 
black  head,  Tabitha  went  back  to  her  work  with  a  smile  on  her  face, 
and  her  breast  filled  with  motherly  pride.  Suddenly,  in  a  frightened 
whisper,  Christie  said,  — 

"Quick,  mother!     Here's  father." 

For  a  moment  Tabitha's  heart  almost  ceased  its  beating.  After 
ten  years  he  had  come,  this  recreant  husband  and  father  !  And  for 
what  purpose  ?  What  motive  had  brought  him  here  ?  A  nameless 


7o 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


dread  came  over  her,  and  seemed  to  make  a  leaden  weight  of  the 
heart  that  a  few  moments  since  was  light  with  hope.  She  feared  for 
her  children,  and,  hastening  to  the  door,  stood  before  Christie,  as  if 
shielding  him  from  evil. 


Leaning  over  the  gate  was  a  sensual-looking 


man,  long  past  mid 
dle  age.  His  eyes, 
half  covered  by  fat, 
were  fixed  with  ad 
miration  on  the 
girl  before  him,  — 
an  admiration  that 
chilled  the  blood  in 
the  mother's  veins. 
Perfectly  unconscious,  Patience 
worked  on.  And  the  man, 
absorbed  in  his  admiration, 
seemed  equally  unconscious  of  the  eyes  watching  him,  as,  with  all  the 
persuasiveness  he  could  command,  he  said,  — 

"  Come  and  kiss  me,  my  pretty  maid,  and  I  will  give  you  a  gay 
bracelet  to  adorn  those  snowy  arms." 

Startled,  the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet.     Her  nervousness  only  added 
to  her  beauty,  as,  alternately  blushing  and  paling,  she  pulled  down  the 


"COME    AND    KISS   ME,    MY    PRETTY    MAIL)." 


CHRISTIE'S    VISION.  71 

sleeves,  and  concealed  the  arms  that  had  called  forth  the  unwelcome 
compliment.  She  knew  who  had  spoken  to  her ;  but,  from  her  first 
remembrance,  her  strongest  feelings  towards  her  father  were  fear  and 
repugnance.  And  now  she  stood  like  a  frightened  fawn,  not  knowing 
what  to  do. 

"  Patience,  kiss  your  father." 

Tabitha's  voice  sounded  harsh  and  rasping ;  for  her  throat  felt 
clutched  by  an  iron  hand,  so  filled  was  she  with  dread  of  evil. 

Instantly  obeying  her  mother,  Patience  held  towards  her  father  her 
dimpled,  blushing  cheek. 

There  was  a  strange  look  in  the  little  eyes,  and  a  discomfited 
expression  around  the  sensual  mouth,  that  hardly  touched  her  soft 
face,  as  the  bishop  beheld  in  the  young  beauty  before  him  the  daughter 
whom  ten  years  ago  he  had  driven  from  his  house.  His  injured  wife 
was  walking  towards  him,  and  now  stood  beside  her  daughter,  —  the 
mother  who  had  watched  over,  and  worked  for,  the  children  he  had 
almost  forgotten. 

It  may  have  been  some  glimmer  of  conscience  that  drove  the  color 
from  his  face,  as  he  awkwardly  extended  one  chubby  hand,  and  said,  - 

"  Tabitha,  dear,  I  came  to  see  you." 

How  she  loathed  him  as  she  took  the  hand  she  dared  not  refuse, 
and,  opening  the  gate,  bowed  an  invitation  to  enter ! 

The  bishop,  somewhat  recovered  from  his  discomfiture,  answered 
that  he  would  surely  come  some  other  time,  but  just  now  he  was 
obliged  to  go.  So,  uttering  a  few  gracious  commonplaces,  he  turned 
to  leave.  Looking  back,  however,  and  saying,  "  Patience,  my  child, 
you  must  come  to  see  me,"  he  again  bowed  farewell,  and  walked 
homeward. 

A  good  man  !  A  saintly  man  !  Honored  by  his  State,  and  fawned 
upon  by  his  neighbors.  He  walked  on,  with  head  bent  down,  chuckling 
at  his  thoughts. 


72  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Tabitha  stood  watching  him  out  of  sight.  Feeling  a  shudder  creep 
all  over  her,  she  turned  to  go  to  the  house. 

"Come,  Patience,  or  we'll  not  have  the  tomatoes  packed  before 
evening." 

The  girl  was  standing  perfectly  still,  pale  as  marble,  except  a  scar 
let  spot  on  one  cheek.  It  was  where  the  bishop's  lips  had  touched 
her,  and  which,  with  unconquerable  repugnance,  she  had  rubbed  until 
the  delicate  skin  was  bruised. 

"Mother,"  —  the  words  came  in  a  low  whisper,  —  "is  it  possible 
that  man  is  my  father  ?  I  cannot  recall  one  moment  in  my  childhood 
that  he  was  ever  kind  to  me.  Whenever  I  was  near  him,  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  seen  a  snake.  And  just  now,  when  you  bade  me  kiss  him,  I 
grew  sick  and  faint.  Is  it  possible  to  feel  thus  to  a  father  ?  " 

"  Alas,  my  child,  that  it  is  true  !  "  answered  the  mother  with  a  bitter 
sigh.  "  I  wish  Matthew  were  here,"  she  added,  as  again  that  nameless 
dread  overpowered  her,  and  made  her  tremble.  And  she  longed  for 
the  true  friend  whose  guidance  and  counsel  had  never  failed  any  need 
ing  help. 

But,  in  the  busy,  work-a-day  world,  there  is  not  leisure  for  the 
indulgence  of  feeling.  One  must  be  "  up  and  doing,"  though  the 
heart  be  aching  and  the  brain  be  whirling.  So  Tabitha  and  Patience, 
each  taking  a  side  of  the  heavy  basket,  had  to  utilize  the  waning  day 
light,  and  most  carefully  pack  the  tomatoes,  or  they  would  be  too 
bruised  to  sell  to  advantage. 

Christie,  who,  until  his  father  disappeared,  had  hidden  his  face  on 
Rex's  head,  now  looked  up  and  smiled  as  Tabitha  and  Patience  came 
near. 

"  Can  you  wrap  and  pack  the  tomatoes  here  ?  I've  felt  so  lonely 
and  cold  ever  since  father  came." 

So  they  sat  on  the  step  at  his  feet,  and  went  busily  to  work. 
Patience  tried  hard  to  call  up  some  of  her  gay  spirits  ;  but  the  smiles 


CHRISTIE'S    VISION.  73 

would  fade,  and  the  laugh  change  to  a  sigh.  Presently  Martin,  who 
had  been  out  of  sight  for  the  past  hour,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
occurred,  came  to  her  aid. 

"  Well,  Patience,  lazy  girl !  The  tomatoes  not  yet  ready !  I'll 
help."  And  he  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  low  step,  and,  not  noticing 
their  anxious  looks,  began  telling  how  he  had  packed  the  different 
vegetables  :  thus,  in  his  kind,  commonplace  way,  bringing  back  their 
thoughts  from  phantom  dreads  to  their  actual  interests  ;  for,  to  them, 
it  was  of  great  moment  that  the  more  delicate  vegetables  should  be 
on  top,  and  things  arranged  to  keep  in  good  condition  while  the 
long  miles  were  travelled  that  lay  between  their  garden  and  the  pur 
chasers. 

By  the  time  every  thing  was  finished,  and  the  last  hamper  secured, 
Patience,  with  the  elasticity  of  youth,  had  somewhat  recovered  her 
gayety. 

"  Martin's  last  supper  at  home,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  He  shall 
not  have  a  dull  one." 

There  was  a  great  affection  between  Martin  and  Patience.  His 
amiability  would  soothe  her  more  nervous  and  excitable  nature  :  and 
so,  when  helping  him  at  the  wagon,  she  had  told  him  about  the  visit 
of  their  father,  even  of  his  compliment  to  her  ;  and,  as  Martin  did  not 
seem  to  think  any  evil  would  come  of  it,  the  dread  which  had  made 
her  sad  and  nervous  lost  its  power. 

"  I'm  as  sorry  as  you  are  that  he  is  our  father.  But  he  is,  and  we 
must  try  to  make  the  best  of  it.  He  has  not  seemed  to  think  about 
us  for  ten  years,  and  perhaps  he  won't  again  for  ten  years  more.  And 
say,  Patience,  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  if  you'll  just  keep  it  to  yourself. 
It  has  fairly  burned  my  tongue  for  the  past  ten  days.  But  I  just 
thought  the  dear  old  mother  has  had  hard  enough  lines  already,  and  I 
didn't  want  to  raise  false  hopes  for  her." 

"  A  secret  !     Why,  Martin,  how  could  you  keep  it  from  me  ?     Tell 


74  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

me  this  very  moment  ;  "  and  she  climbed  upon  the  side  of  the  wagon, 
to  get  nearer  his  face. 

"  Well,"  said  Martin,  as  if  to  begin  a  long  preamble. 

"  Not  another  '  well,'  I  implore  you  !  But  tell  me  the  secret 
quick  !  "  cried  Patience. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  resumed  Martin,  "  unless  you  let  me  tell  you  my 
own  way,  I  cannot  at  all.  I'm  not  compressed  lightning." 

Patience's  only  answer  was,  — 

"Then,  tell  it  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  "  you  remember  all  about  the  nice  little  girl 
who  gave  me  Rex  for  Christie,  and  how  kindly  the  whole  family 
treated  me  ?  I  was  tired  out  when  I  reached  their  town.  It  is  a 
mining-camp  outside  the  Utah  border.  Her  mother  made  me  stop  to 
supper.  Her  father  told  me  to  put  my  horses  in  his  stable,  and  the 
little  girl  was  as  good  to  me  as  a  girl  could  be.  That  night,  after 
supper,  they  asked  me  some  questions  about  Utah  and  the  Mormons. 
They  soon  found  out,  that,  though  I  was  a  Mormon  born,  I  was  not  of 
the  religion.  They  continued  to  question,  and  so  I  told  them  some 
thing  of  our  history.  All  of  a  sudden  the  little  girl  burst  out  crying, 
and  ran  to  her  father,  saying,  '  Help  these  poor  people  from  that  ter 
rible  place  ! '  Then  Mr.  Marks  asked  me  if  I  could  leave,  and  bring 
you  all  with  me.  I  told  him  that  disaffected  Mormons  were  watched, 
and  not  allowed  to  go  out  of  the  country,  but  that  the  families  of 
teamsters  sometimes  took  trips  away  with  them  ;  and  that  we  lived  so 
quietly,  being  quite  poor,  that  I  did  not  believe  it  would  be  at  all  diffi 
cult  for  us  to  leave.  'Then,  my  man,'  he  said,  'if  you  can  bring  your 
mother,  sister,  and  little  brother  here  by  the  middle  of  December,  I 
will  promise  you  work,  and  four  dollars  per  day,  as  long  as  you  are 
honest  and  faithful.'  Think  of  that,  Patience  !  " 

Her  only  answer  was  a  hug  and  a  kiss.  Then,  jumping  down  to 
the  ground,  she  took  his  hand,  and,  pulling  him  along,  said,  — 


CHXlSTfE'S   VISION. 


75 


"  Now,  tell  mother  every  word  of  this.  It  will  help  relieve  her 
mind.  Don't  you  see  anxiety  for  the  future  is  wearing  her  out  ? 
Come,  you  dear,  stupid  love  of  a  brother.  I  believe  you  just  kept  this 
secret  to  make  us  feel  happy  all  the  time  you're  away." 

So  they  hurried  to  Tabitha  and  Christie  with  the  wonderful  hope 
that  had  sprung  up  for  them. 

"  That  must  be  the  meaning  of  my  vision,"  said  Christie.  "  Take 
me  in  your  arms,  mother,  while  I  tell  it." 


CHRIS TIKS    STOKY    OK    THK    VISION. 


They  had  been  talking  around  the  supper-table.  But,  when 
Christie  held  out  his  arms  to  his  mother,  she  took  him  tenderly  on 
her  lap,  and  the  others  drew  their  chairs  near.  The  child  began,  - 

"  It  seemed  to  me  I  was  sitting  outside  Matthew's  house,  waiting 
for  Christine  to  come.  I  knew  she  was  married,  and  was  going  away  ; 
but  I  wanted  the  last  look  of  her  dear  face.  The  carriage  was  at  the 
gate ;  and  Malcolm,  so  handsome,  was  standing  at  the  horses'  heads. 
Presently  the  door  opened,  and  Matthew  came  out  with  Christine. 


76  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

She  looked  at  the  flowers  strewn  on  the  path,  and  said,  '  The  dear 
children  have  done  this,'  and  then,  smiling,  while  the  tears  stood  in 
her  eyes,  stepped  in  the  carriage.  Matthew  and  Malcolm  both  got  in  ; 
but,  in  a  moment,  Malcolm's  face  changed  to  sullen  fury,  the  horses 
madly  rushed  along,  and  the  road  seemed  one  sheet  of  fire.  I  cried 
out,  '  Christine  has  gone,  and  I  shall  never  see  her  again  ! '  Then, 
before  I  could  speak  to  you,  mother,  who  seemed  near  me,  I  felt 
myself  falling  down,  down,  and  then  awakened  on  a  dark  road.  Pa 
tience  and  mother  were  toiling  along,  and  I  was  on  Rex's  back. 
Every  thing  was  dark,  and  we  seemed  afraid  to  speak,  when,  suddenly, 
mother  snatched  me  in  her  arms  ;  and,  where  before  I  could  not  see 
a  single  person,  there  now  stood  a  number  of  men.  Their  faces  were 
covered,  and  they  held  in  their  hands  flaming  torches.  Among  them, 
with  his  hands  tied,  was  Matthew.  He  stood  just  like  the  Saviour  he 
tells  us  about.  He  spoke,  and  said,  '  Do  not  be  afraid.'  And  then, 
while  I  was  still  trembling,  I  seemed  lifted  out  of  your  arms,  mother, 
and  held  tenderly  in  such  strong  arms  that  I  looked  up,  and  I  saw 
the  most  beautiful  face  I  ever  dreamed  of.  It  was  a  man's  face  ;  and 
he  kissed  me,  and  said,  'You  were  patient,  now  be  happy.'  Then  he 
put  me  on  my  feet.  They  were  strong  beneath  me  ;  but,  falling  on 
my  knees,  I  said,  '  O  Lord  !  is  it  you  ? '  He  answered  '  Yes,'  and 
smiled  upon  me.  '  Then,  Lord,  give  my  mother  peace,  or  I  cannot  be 
happy.  See,  she  is  looking  for  me.'  Then  he  smiled,  and,  holding 
out  his  hand,  took  yours.  In  a  moment  you  stood  beside  me,  —  not 
pale  and  thin  as  now,  but  bright  and  shining  like  a  star.  Then 
Matthew  came,  and,  falling  down,  would  have  kissed  the  feet  of  the 
Lord  ;  but  he  smiled  again,  and,  raising  him,  put  Matthew's  head  on 
his  breast,  and  said,  '  Here  is  your  place,  my  friend.'  Yet  I  was  not 
happy ;  for  I  wanted  my  Patience,  my  Christine,  and  my  Martin.  I 
wanted  them  to  be  in  the  beautiful  place  with  us.  The  Lord  knew 
I  was  not  happy ;  for  he  said,  '  Why,  Christie  !  not  yet  content  ? '  — 


CHRISTIE'S    VISION.  77 

4  Dear  Lord,'  I  said,  '  how  can  I  be  at  peace,  when  some  I  love  are 
still  suffering  ? '  —  '  Child/  he  said,  half  reproachfully,  yet  so  sweetly, 
'  look  ! '  Down  a  dusty  road,  a  little  way  off,  was  Martin  springing 
along.  His  face  was  shining  with  a  glory  that  seemed  to  cover  him. 
He  held  out  his  arms  to  me,  and  said,  '  I'm  coming,  little  brother.' 
And  then,  farther  down  the  road,  were  Christine  and  Patience  in  each 
other's  arms.  They,  too,  looked  peaceful,  and  were  hastening  towards 
me.  As  they  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  their  faces  grew  brighter 
and  brighter,  I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  said,  '  Thank  you,  dear  Lord  :  we 
are  all  at  peace,  —  dear  mother,  dear  Matthew  ; '  and,  after  a  little, 
'  Martin,  Christine,  and  Patience.'  Then  I  awoke,  and  saw  you  all 
around  me." 

While  the  child  was  speaking,  he  seemed  like  one  whose  life  was 
ending  here  below,  and  for  whom  heaven  was  opening. 

Tabitha's  heart  ached  as  she  looked  at  him.  Martin  had  bowed 
his  head  on  his  hands,  and  Patience  was  softly  weeping. 

"  Why,"  Christie  said,  "  I  have  made  you  sad  !  "  Then,  with  a 
half  sob,  "  I've  told  my  dream  badly  ;  for,  if  you  could  have  seen  the 
Lord's  face,  you  would  not  feel  sad  again.  Since  I  dreamed  of  him, 
I  have  not  even  grieved  over  Christine's  departure.  But  my  heart 
seems  ever  beating  out  the  words  Matthew  always  says,  '  Thy  will  be 
done,  thy  will  be  done.'  ' 

He  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  there  came  a  rap  at  the 
door. 

"  Matthew  !  "  they  all  cried  out  with  joy  as  the  door  opened,  and 
their  friend  stood  in  their  midst. 

He  looked  tired  and  dusty  ;  had  but  just  arrived,  and,  hearing 
Christie  had  been  sick,  came  at  once  to  see  him.  He  asked  about  his 
sickness,  and  told  the  little  fellow  he  was  thankful  to  see  him  better. 

"  Yes,  you  may  give  me  a  cup  of  tea,"  he  answered  to  Patience's 
inquiry. 


78  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

And,  the  girl,  delighted  to  do  even  this  slight  service  for  him,  who, 
serving  every  one,  yet  would  receive  no  service,  hastened  to  the 
kitchen. 

She  soon  brought  in  some  supper,  and  smiled  with  pride  and 
happiness  when  Matthew  praised  her  cooking,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it. 

After  he  had  eaten,  he  told  them  all  about  Christine,  —  what  a 
pleasant  trip  they  had,  and  what  a  pretty  little  house,  all  furnished, 
John  Smith  had  presented  to  her.  And  then,  opening  a  large  parcel, 
he  gave  each  a  souvenir  from  the  dear,  absent  friend.  For  Tabitha 
and  Patience,  warm  knitted  jackets  ;  for  Martin,  a  pair  of  heavy  driv 
ing-mittens  ;  and  for  Christie,  a  soft  fur-lined  coat  that  would  cover 
his  poor  little  feet.  "  She  sends  you  these  with  her  dear  love,  and 
begs  you  will  write  to  her." 

In  her  own  happiness  she  had  remembered  them,  thinking  of  each 
one's  needs.  Her  and  Matthew's  friendship  had  been  the  main-stay 
of  this  family.  And  to-night,  when  the  old  life  of  pain  had  seemed 
to  be  nearing  them  in  the  strangely  awakened  interest  of  Bishop 
White,  these  two  dear  friends  were  heaven-sent  to  keep  hope  alive  in 
their  hearts.  Looking  at  Matthew  and  Martin,  while  they  talked  of 
the  morrow's  trip,  Tabitha  was  feeling  this  comfort. 

Martin  told  Matthew  of  the  hope  for  their  future.  And  the  old 
man,  counselling  silence,  saw  in  it  a  happy  release  for  these  clear  chil 
dren  of  his  adoption.  He  would  come  on  the  morrow,  and  hear 
Christie's  vision,  he  said,  as  he  put  his  hand  on  the  child's  bright 
head,  and  blessed  him.  To  him  the  patient  little  sufferer  ever  seemed 
nearer  heaven  than  earth  ;  and  to  his  simple,  unquestioning  faith,  there 
appeared  nothing  strange  that  angels  should  hold  converse  with  him. 
So,  bidding  them  "good-night,"  Matthew  left  them  happy  and  peaceful 
for  his  coming. 


MARRIED  AND  A'    THAT." 


79 


CHAPTER    XI. 

"  MARRIED     AND     A'     THAT." 

N  July,  mid  nature's  bounteous  gifts  ripening  unto 
harvest,    Christine    had    been    married.     Through 
fields  of  grain,  kissed  golden  by  the  sun  ;  of  tall, 
luxuriant  corn,  whose  dark  green  glistened  in  the 
brightness  ;  past  brawling  brooks  ;  past  orchards 
laden  with  luscious  fruit  ;  past  houses  with   chil 
dren  playing  at  their  open  doors,  and  hiding  'neath 
shadows    of   waving   branches,  —  on    dashed    the 
train,  bearing  to  her  new  home  Christine  and  her 
happiness. 

Sweet  through  car-windows  came  the  breath  of  the 
new-mown  hay.  Lovingly  the  breeze  lifted  the  soft  silk  of  her  hair, 
and  kissed  the  snow  of  her  brow,  lingering  on  the  beauty  of  her  face 
as  if  to  carry  its  image  to  some  sick-bed,  whose  sufferer,  dreaming  of 
angel's  smile,  forgets  his  weary  pain. 

Tenderly  gazed  her  grandfather  on  his  child.  And  her  husband, 
exalted  by  love's  first  glory,  seemed  all  that  woman  desires  in  man. 
It  is  a  curious  phase  of  human  nature,  that  a  woman  like  Christine  — 
strong,  intellectual,  and  self-contained  —  should  have  given  herself 
utterly  to  a  man  greatly  her  inferior,  of  whom  she  knew  nothing, 
except  that  he  was  beautiful.  And  yet  every  day  this  phase  is  seen, 
and  every  day  the  passing  crowd  wonders  at  it.  Can  it  not  under 
stand,  that,  of  all,  a  noble  nature  is  easiest  deceived  ?  Can  it  not 


80  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

understand,  that,  of  its  nobility  it  endows  its  love,  giving  to  that  love 
its  own  high  attributes  ? 

Christine  had  wandered  with  Malcolm  midst  flowery  fields,  through 
shaded  paths,  with  spring's  fresh  beauty  around  them.  She  had 
talked  to  him  of  her  spirit's  whisperings ;  and  he  had  listened,  smiled, 
assented.  And,  behold !  to  her  he  stood  clothed  in  each  noble 
thought. 

It  had  not  seemed  that  she  had  uttered  the  aspirations  that  bring 
poor  humanity  nearer  the  Godhead,  but  that  he  was  the  leading 
spirit ;  and  she  loved  him,  that  his  beauty  was  but  the  outer  cover  of  a 
noble  soul.  Strong  in  her  own  faithfulness,  it  had  never  entered  her 
mind  to  conceive  that  his  impetuosity  could  be  allied  to  weaker 
qualities. 

The  eyes  that  looked  so  frankly  into  her  own  in  the  days  of  his 
wooing,  that  now  were  liquid  with  love's  languor,  seemed  to  be  full 
of  truth's  own  brightness.  Once  removed,  that  first  doubt,  born  of 
his  sigh,  was  a  thing  vanished,  as  the  mist  of  the  morning.  And,  when 
she  gave  him  her  hand,  her  heart  went  with  it  entirely,  utterly.  The 
tears  in  her  eyes,  as  she  left  her  father's  house,  were  more  for  others 
than  herself,  —  those  dear  friends  to  whom  she  was  so  much,  who  had 
made  her  world,  until  this  bright  young  sun-god  had  come,  and  bade 
her  follow  him.  And  follow  him  she  must,  —  to  the  world's  end,  if 
need  be  ;  through  misery,  poverty,  and  pain  ;  through  every  thing  but 
sin.  There  her  feet  would  refuse  to  carry  her  pure  soul.  But  there 
was  no  question  of  sin  in  the  handsome  eyes  looking  at  her,  and,  no 
doubt,  only  perfect  trust  in  those  dark  depths,  whose  answering  glance 
mirrored  her  sweet  soul. 

Faster  the  houses  grew  up  midst  the  fields,  holding  themselves 
closer  and  closer  together,  until,  a  goodly  company,  they  grew,  and 
grew  into  a  stately  city. 

Among  its  brick  and  stone,  man's  works  of  strength,  great  trees 


"MARRIED  AND  A'    THAT:'  8 1 

stretched  out  their  branches  covered  with  thickest  foliage ;  and 
Matthew  smiled  at  these  familiar  friends  as  the  train  stopped :  and,  at 
the  depot,  John  Smith  was  waiting  to  welcome  them. 

Malcolm  was  rather  anxious  about  the  effect  Christine  would  pro 
duce  on  this  uncle  whom  he  admired,  and  of  whom  he  stood  as  much 
in  awe  as  was  possible  to  his  nature. 

He  could  remember  him  a  quiet  student,  poor,  and  almost  un 
known.  And,  year  by  year,  he  had  seen  him  climb  ambition's  ladder ; 
until  now,  in  all  Utah,  no  man's  voice  had  equal  power. 

A  cynic  and  a  satirist.  Yet,  at  will,  he  could  command  eloquence 
so  fiery  and  impassioned,  that  it  would  light  the  flame  of  fanaticism 
till  it  blazed  just  as  he  directed. 

As  for  women, — well,  he  had  married  three  wives,  quiet,  ordinary 
persons,  each  of  whom  had  brought  him  a  rich  dower.  To  these  he 
seemed  most  kind  and  respectful.  And  they,  whether  held  in  check 
by  the  same  power  with  which  he  controlled  the  populace,  or  whether 
really  contented  with  their  strange  lot,  seemed  placidly  to  accept 
their  destiny,  and  appreciate  gratefully  the  polite  attentions  of  their 
husband. 

But  towards  other  women  John  Smith's  cynicism  grew  most  bit 
ter  ;  and  Malcolm  smiled  nervously,  as,  descending  from  the  cars,  he 
presented  his  wife. 

Somehow,  from  the  moment  John  Smith  met  them  at  the  train, 
and  drove  them  to  the  house,  which,  furnished  even  with  two  smiling 
maids,  he  presented  to  Christine  as  her  wedding  gift,  all  she  did 
seemed  well  done  to  him.  And  Malcolm  stopped  biting  his  lip, 
laughing  with  content  at  first  the  interest,  then  admiration,  which 
brightened  his  uncle's  cold  eyes. 

He  grew  more  and  more  pleased  with  himself  and  his  choice,  as, 
day  after  day  of  Matthew's  visit,  John  Smith  put  aside  all  business, 
devoting  himself  to  the  pleasure  of  the  old  man  and  his  child. 


82  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Already  Malcolm  began  to  look  forward  to  the  effect  his  wife 
would  produce  upon  the  fashionable  Mormon  world.  She  who  could 
so  interest  that  coldest  of  men  would  soon  be  reigning  queen  of 
society,  and  perhaps  might  even  acquire  influence  with  the  govern 
ment  if —  But  that  ugly  little  "if,"  which,  even  in  these  first  days, 
began  to  obtrude  itself,  was  put  to  flight  by  John  Smith's  laugh. 

Never  before  in  his  life  had  he  heard  his  uncle  laugh,  except 
that  conventional  sound,  which,  through  policy,  he  sometimes  gave  in 
compliment  to  the  worn-out  joke  of  one  he  wished  to  flatter.  Here 
he  was  laughing  with  almost  boyish  merriment  at  some  bright  speech 
of  Christine's,  which  had  made  Matthew  pat  her  cheek,  and  smile 
in  reply. 

And  Malcolm  wondered  more  and  more,  and  felt  more  and  more 
delighted  with  his  wife,  as  he  noticed  only  her  comments,  her  laughter, 
had  power  to  arouse  his  uncle.  When,  out  of  her  happy  heart,  in 
these  days  of  Matthew's  stay,  Christine's  laughter  would  ring  like  soft 
bells,  John  Smith  would  laugh  with  her  ;  and,  putting  off  his  cold 
dignity,  he  seemed  to  grow  in  youthfulness  of  heart. 

Each  morning  his  carriage  brought  him  to  their  house,  and  waited 
outside,  as  some  fresh  plan  he  had  made  for  their  pleasure  was 
•approved,  amended,  or  changed,  according  to  the  lights  and  shades 
of  Christine's  face.  All  this  was  delightful  to  Malcolm,  until,  become 
quite  secure  of  it,  he  grew  indifferent.  He  yawned  a  little  as  he 
thought,  "  he  thinks  a  lot  of  her ;  "  and  then  he  wished  for  some  new 
observers  to  admire  Christine's  charms,  and  feel  the  power  of  her 
eloquent  thoughts.  But  of  this  slight  weariness  nothing  was  seen  ; 
and  the  yawns  were  hid  in  very  charming  smiles,  that  his  wife  thought 
brighter  than  heaven's  sunshine. 

Delightful  trips  were  made  to  all  surrounding  places  of  interest, 
—  to  the  shore  of  the  lake  whose  salt  waters  are  so  buoyant  that 
human  body  cannot  sink,  and  so  strongly  brine  no  fish  lives  under 


"MARRIED  AND  A'    THAT."  83 

its  waves.  A  phenomenon,  it  stands  memorial  to  the  strength,  extent, 
and  power  of  that  debasing  creed  which  is  America's  shame.  That 
this  region,  gifted  by  nature  with  fertile  lands,  great  mineral  wealth, 
springs  of  boiling,  healing  waters,  should  be  the  cradle  of  immorality, 
the  school  where  young  souls  are  taught  to  embrace  vice,  is  a  shame, 
a  horror,  greater  than  any  glory  our  country  can  boast ! 


84 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


VISITS    OF    INTEREST. 


'HE  day  before  his  departure  Matthew  expressed  his 
desire  to  visit  the  railroad  then  in  course  of  con 
struction,  and  also  the  public  schools. 

Discourses  on  doctrinal  points  had  been  studi 
ously  avoided  by  John  Smith  ;  and,  of  course,  cour 
tesy  forbade  Matthew  making  inquiries  on  a  point 
that  to  him  was  of  vital  interest.  He  wanted  to 
know  how  a  system  called  public  education,  pro 
fessing  liberal  religion,  could  be  made  to  subserve 
a  private  tyrannical  creed,  and  thus  youth,  the 
strengthening  sinews  of  a  state,  trained  into  deter 
mined  support  of  the  political  power  of  Mormonism,  as  opposed  to 
the  expressed  desire  of  the  United-States  Government,  by  which 
government  the  school  system  had  been  established. 

In  his  own  little  village,  where  Bishop  White  represented  both 
spiritual  and  temporal  power,  this  had  been  easy  enough.  But  here, 
in  a  great  city,  a  metropolis,  where  lived  Gentiles  in  numbers,  where 
came  and  went  a  travelling  public,  there  must  require  great  manage 
ment,  extensive  influence.  And  from  observation,  and  perhaps  some 
questions  to  superintendent  and  teachers,  Matthew  hoped  to  glean  an 
explanation. 

Whatever  John  Smith  thought  of  the  old  man's  wish  to  visit  the 
schools,  he  showed  only  pleasure  in  being  able  to  gratify  it.  Riding 


VISITS   OF  INTEREST.  85 

betimes  to  the  door,  with  plans  arranged  for  their  comfort,  and  some 
loose  flowers  for  Christine,  which  he  handed  her  as  he  joined  the 
little  family  still  seated  around  the  breakfast-table,  — 

"  Don't  hurry  :  we  have  plenty  of  time.  The  horses  will  go  all 
the  better  for  a  longer  rest,"  he  had  said,  as  Matthew  proposed  their 
starting  at  once,  and  not  keeping  the  carriage  waiting. 

His  gracious  acquiescence,  his  evident  pleasure  in  giving  pleasure, 
delighted  the  old  man,  and  touched  his  child's  heart. 


THE  FLOWERS  MATTHEW  HELD  TO  HER  THROAT. 


The  girl's  face  flushed,  and  the  dark  eyes  raised  to  her  uncle's 
were  full  of  gratitude.  He  saw  it  shining  through  the  tears  which  had 
sprung  to  her  eyes,  as,  handing  Matthew  his  coffee,  she  had  thought 
with  a  pang  how  soon  must  cease  those  little  services,  so  dear  to  both. 
John  Smith  felt  the  soft  sadness  of  her  face,  the  beauty  of  those 
unshed  tears,  as  for  a  moment  —  hardly  so  long —  he  looked  at  her. 

And  then,  while  talking  to  Malcolm,  eating  heartily  of  the  tempt 
ing  breakfast  deftly  served  by  the  neat  little  maid,  he  noticed,  without 
seeming  to  do  so,  how  vastly  becoming  to  her  were  the  flowers  which 


86  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Matthew,  taking  from  the  table,  held  to  her  throat.  And  she,  bending 
down  her  head,  rested  her  cheek  caressingly  against  her  grandfather's 
hand. 

It  was  a  sweet  picture,  the  two  sitting  thus  close  together.  And 
those  eyes  of  John  Smith,  for  all  their  cold  gravity,  held  it  in  his 
vision  after  he  had  turned  away,  and  was  apparently  interested  in 
something  else. 

They  were  to  ride  out  as  far  as  the  railroad  was  built.  After  they 
had  discussed  its  probable  speedy  completion  to  their  heart's  content, 
they  would  lunch  with  a  friend  of  John  Smith's,  whose  house  was 
near  the  railroad,  and  who  was  one  of  the  school  trustees.  With  him 
they  would  return  to  the  city,  visiting  such  schools  as  he  should  select. 

It  was  a  charming  day.  The  trees,  in  all  the  glory  of  summer 
foliage,  gave  to  the  broad  streets  the  beauty  of  a  park  ;  and  the 
little  streams,  running  on  each  side,  between  the  double  rows  of  for 
est  kings,  carried  in  their  swift  current  much  that  in  other  cities  make 
thoroughfares  unsightly.  This  very  singular  and  attractive  mode  of 
sewerage  is  one  of  the  distinctive  features  of  Salt  Lake.  As  it 
stands  embowered  in  shade-trees,  the  beautiful  natural  basin  in  which 
it  is  built  surrounded  by  grand  mountains,  whose  snow-caps  rest 
against  the  clouds,  it  is  a  city  to  waken  delight  and  admiration  in  the 
stranger,  and  will,  in  memory,  hold  clear  its  place  when  other  cities 
equally  great,  but  less  unique,  have  faded  into  general  views. 

"  Even  the  weather  conspires  to  honor  you,"  John  Smith,  sitting 
opposite,  said  laughingly  to  Christine,  as  they  rolled  along  over  the 
smooth  paving.  And  then  he  thought  how  much  more  charming  than 
speech  was  the  smile  with  which  she  answered  him. 

Matthew,  next  her,  had  taken  in  his  own  the  dear  hand  resting  on 
her  lap.  He  was  so  soon  to  leave  her  !  How  precious  she  was  to 
him  !  He  did  not  speak,  but  smiled  down  lovingly  upon  her.  And 
the  dark  eyes  raised  to  his  were  still  dewy  with  the  sadness  of  the 


VISITS   OF  INTEREST.  87 

coming  parting.  So  much  had  each  been  to  the  other's  life,  it  was 
no  easy  matter  to  separate.  Each  heart  was  feeling  the  void  to-mor 
row  would  bring,  while  the  man  who  had  won  this  woman's  love 
was  humming  to  himself  as  he  gazed  out  of  the  carriage.  And 
now  that  they  were  in  the  country,  without  occasional  enlivening  bow 
and  smile  from  passing  acquaintance,  rinding  the  stillness  rather 
oppressive,  he  glanced  at  his  wife ;  thought  she  was  "  a  deuced 
handsome  girl."  Then  at  Matthew,  who,  in  his  costume  and  appear 
ance,  carried  the  country.  But  it  was  the  pleasantness  of  the  coun 
try.  There  was  nothing  awkward  or  uncouth  about  that  noble  head 
and  majestic  form.  Looking  at  him,  one  thought  of  clover-fields 
waving  in  summer's  wind  ;  of  yellow  wheat  ready  for  the  sickle  ; 
great  trees  shading  cool  lanes  ;  and  rippling  brooks,  on  whose  green 
banks  peacefully  grazed  the  patient  cow,  and  gambolled  playful  lambs, 
—  Nature,  beneficent  in  its  goodness  and  beauty,  a  sermon  more  potent 
than  human  eloquence.  Such  thoughts  were  wakened  by  the  kindly 
glance  of  Matthew's  clear  eyes.  Yet  while  John  Smith,  cynic  and 
unbeliever,  felt  it  all,  and  truly  honored  this  simple-hearted  farmer, 
Malcolm,  young,  hopeful,  gay,  saw  it  not. 

The  calm  face,  framed  in  snowy  hair,  inspired  him  with  no  other 
sentiment  than,  "  If  the  old  cove  comes  to  visit  us  next  winter,  we 
must  try  to  reconstruct  his  costume.  He'd  not  be  bad-looking  if 
he'd  wear  fashionable  clothes." 

Then  his  eyes  fell  on  his  uncle ;  and  he  wondered  how  it  was  he 
had  managed  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  great  Brigham,  and  make 
such  a  lot  of  money.  Then  he  sighed  lightly,  and,  looking  out  on  the 
beautiful  pastoral  landscape,  wished  the  horses  would  hurry  up. 
He  was  growing  "deuced  tired"  of  riding  about  to  places  where 
there  was  nothing  to  interest. 

Thus,  after  all,  a  great  deal  depends  on  the  eyes  that  see.  Mal 
colm's  eyes,  so  perfect  in  color  and  shape,  saw  only  a  handsome 


88 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


woman  and  country  farmer  where  those  of  John  Smith's,  very  inferior 
in  appearance,  found  enough  to  interest  and  fill  his  thoughts  during 
their  long  and  rather  silent  drive. 

At    the   terminus    of    the   road  was  a  small   frame   building.       It 
served  for  a  temporary  office  ;  and,  before  it,  a  long  line  of  men,  in 
single  file,  were  entering  by  one  door,  and  depart 
ing  by  another. 

Pay-day.     I    had   forgotten,"    John    Smith 
said,   as  the  bearer  of  his  card  returned, 
and,  bowing  very  low  to  the  great 
man,    invited    the   party   to 
enter. 

The  gentleman  at  the 
desk   suspended   his    la 
bors    to    come    forward, 
shake  hands  with  Mr. 
Smith,    and    be    pre 
sented  to  his  friends. 

"  We  will  be  more 
comfortable  if  not  dis 
turbing  you,"  said   Mr.   Smith.     "  We 
will  wait  here  a  few  moments,  and  admire  the 
orderly  manner  in  which  your  business  is  con 
ducted.      Then,   with  your   permission,  from 
your  foreman,  whom  I  know,  we  can  gain  any  information  we  desire." 

After  a  few  courtesies,  the  usual  commonplaces  of  such  occasions, 
the  superintendent  returned  to  his  desk,  and  the  day's  business  was 
resumed. 

To  the  left  of  the  desk  was  seated  a  small,  spare  man,  who  had 
most  obsequiously  returned  Mr.  Smith's  bow.  This  was  the  tithe- 
gatherer.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  list  containing  each  man's  name, 


VOLUNTARY   CONTRIBUTIONS." 


VISITS   OF  INTEREST.  89 

wages,  and  indebtedness  to  the  Mormon  church.  As  each  received 
his  pay,  the  amount  he  must  give  to  the  church  was  stated  to  him, 
and  immediately  surrendered. 

"Voluntary  contributions,"  John  Smith  said  in  Matthew's  ear. 

"  Voluntary  ? "  and  the  true  eyes  looked  steadily  down  on  the 
uncle  of  his  granddaughter,  while  to  Matthew's  mind  came  the  full 
force  of  what  is  called  "voluntary." 

Let  one  of  those  men  fail  to  pay  the  demand  of  the  tithe-gatherer, 
and  he  loses  his  place.  His  neighbors  refuse  him  countenance.  His 
property  is  stolen  or  injured.  For  him  protection  is  impossible.  The 
law  can  not,  or  will  not,  find  the  offenders.  If  sickness  comes  upon 
him  or  his,  yet  must  he  stand  alone.  Boycotted  !  Accursed  of  the 
church  !  Avoided  by  its  followers.  Is  that  voluntary,  when  refusal 
entails  such  results  ?  Instance  after  instance  of  this  oppressive  sys 
tem  of  taxation  came  before  him.  And  poor  Anton,  his  destroyed 
crops,  his  stolen  cattle,  his  martyred  family,  and  own  despair,  made 
darker,  more  criminal,  the  cruel  law.  Again  he  caught  his  dying  look. 
Again  in  his  ears  sounded  the  gasping  of  his  failing  voice,  "  I  hope 
Gott  vill  vorgive,  I  vas  so  onhappy."  Poor  Anton,  poor  Anton  !  Was 
he  to  be  punished  ?  God  alone  knew.  His  will  be  done.  Even  as 
his  heart  ached  in  pity,  Matthew  uttered  his  prayer. 


9o 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  BROTHER'S  HELP. 

HE  perfect  system  of  Utah's  tithing,  the  exact  knowl 
edge  of  each  family's  finances,  is  one  of  the  gov 
ernment's  great  powers.  The  name  of  each  man, 
woman,  and  child  is  registered,  with  amount  of 
wages  earned,  or  property  owned.  The  president 
of  the  church  appoints  to  each  district  its  tithe- 
gatherer.  To  him  is  furnished  the  different  amounts 
due  from  each  individual.  And,  as  the  non-payment 
is  so  surely  and  swiftly  punished,  omissions  or  fail 
ures  to  comply  with  the  Mormon  law  are  rare,  most 
rare.  The  tithing-money  is  paid  to  the  president, 
who  does  with  it  —  well,  it  is  better  not  to  question  what,  secretly 
managed,  can  never  be  satisfactorily  settled.  Inevitable  as  death  is 
this  tithing.  No  pity  or  justice  stops  the  demand.  By  it  the  poor  are 
made  poorer.  For  it  the  women  toil  in  fields,  and  children  are  put  to 
work,  that  the  unlucky  family-mill  may  grind,  grind,  until  the  church 
is  satisfied.  Matthew  felt  the  little  room  oppressive  as  he  watched 
the  faces  of  the  men,  and  speculated  how  many  absolute  needs  of  each 
family  were  sacrificed  to  the  tyrannical  demands  of  Mormonism.  Yet 
was  there  no  escape  ?  The  United-States  flag  protects  the  Mormon 
rule.  Under  its  free  laws  flourishes  this  perfect  system  of  cruel, 
oppressive  government.  The  old  man  was  glad  to  leave  the  office 
that  for  him  was  filling  with  painful  thought.  Out  in  the  fresh  air  and 


A   BROTHER'S  HELP.  91 

sunlight  he  joined  Malcolm,  who  was  smoking,  and  chatting  with  the 
foreman.  "  What  pleasant  ways  he  has  ! "  thought  Matthew,  as  he 
looked  at  his  Christine's  husband. 

Gay,  beautiful,  strong.  The  old  man  felt  in  this  bright  figure  a 
renewal  of  his  own  youth.  Returning  Malcolm's  smile,  thanking  God 
for  his  child's  happiness,  for  her  blessed,  sheltered  future,  the  morrow's 
parting  lost  its  sting.  Could  he  regret  that  wherein  she  so  greatly 
gained  ? 

Never  had  Malcolm  appeared  to  greater  advantage  than  during 
these  first  days  of  his* married  life,  —  thoughtful  of  those  attentions 
so  grateful  to  the  old,  full  of  tender  courtesies  to  his  wife,  and,  to  his 
uncle,  deference  tempered  with  merriment. 

Truly,  there  seemed  nothing  to  be  desired  for  that  beautiful  woman, 
whose  dark  eyes  unconsciously  followed  each  graceful  motion  of  him 
she  loved.  The  sunlight  was  upon  her ;  love  and  tenderness  sur 
rounding  her  as  she  stood  the  central  figure  in  the  little  group  of 
grandfather,  uncle,  husband.  And  who  so  fitting  for  her  husband, 
her  companion,  as  this  radiant  youth,  filled  with  all  those  gifts  that 
make  youth's  greatest  charm  ?  Who,  looking  on  him,  hearing  his 
ringing  laughter,  would  have  imagined  the  courtesies  so  graciously 
rendered  were  becoming  rather  tedious  ?  And  the  happy  face  that 
made  his  wife's  heart  glow  was  mask  to  the  thought,  "  I  wonder  how 
much  of  this  goody-goody  business  a  fellow  is  expected  to  stand." 

John  Smith  marvelled  at  the  change  in  his  nephew.  He  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  frivolity  which  had  marred  his  many  gifts.  "  Malcolm 
may  be  rich,  but  never  powerful,"  his  uncle  had  said  of  him.  Yet  now 
he  was  almost  modifying  his  opinion. 

And  was  it  wonderful  with  such  a  woman  for  wife  ?  Strength, 
truth,  intelligence, — all  these  were  Christine's  ;  and  adorning  them,  as 
the  vine  a  noble  structure,  grace  and  beauty.  The  man  of  the  world, 
whose  life  had  been  one  success,  sighed  heavily,  then,  as  if  brushing 


92  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

away  some  obtrusive  thought,  turned  to  his  niece,  claiming  her  atten 
tion,  as,  between  him  and  her  husband,  she  walked  towards  her  grand 
father. 

He  was  talking  with  the  foreman.  Even  while  Malcolm  was  jest 
ing  with  the  man,  Matthew  saw  he  was  in  trouble.  And  trouble  to 
Matthew  was  a  cry  for  help  that  never  passed  unheard.  So  when 
Christine  and  Mr.  Smith  came  from  the  office,  and  Malcolm,  with 
laughing  remark,  joined  them,  Matthew  turned  to  the  foreman,  whose 
sad  eyes  seemed  fixed  in  painful  thought.  In  voice  that  could  not 
fail  to  reach  an  aching  heart,  he  said,  "  Friend,  you  are  in  trouble. 
As  a  brother,  I  will  serve  you  if  I  can." 

The  man  frowned,  but  it  was  to  hide  a  tear.  He  bit  his  lip  to 
keep  back  a  sob  wakened  by  the  voice  and  manner  of  this  stranger. 
He  looked  at  the  benevolent  face,  from  whence  shone  the  true  spirit 
of  brotherly  love,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  blurted  out,  — 

"  You  may  betray  me,  but  I'll  risk  it.  Up  to  this  day  I've  been 
a  Mormon,  in  truth  as  well  as  word.  Believing  in  its  religion,  I  gave 
my  daughter  —  my  favorite  child  —  in  marriage  to  a  Mormon.  Against 
her  pleading  I  did  this,  deciding  it  was  for  her  good.  And  now,  under 
Mormon  mummery,  she  is  dying." 

"  Can  I  see  her  ?  "  Matthew  asked. 

"  They  will  not  let  me  in,"  the  father  groaned.  "  And  her  hus 
band,  the  fool,  is  locked  in  his  own  cellar.  Sent  there  to  pray,  while 
his  wife,  and  the  baby  coming,  are  at  the  mercy,  and  under  the  fool 
ery,  of  those  1  ay ers-on-of -hands  !  If  a  husband  cared  for  his  wife, 
would  he  leave  her  at  such  a  moment  without  succor  ?  "  the  man  said 
bitterly.  His  sun-burned,  commonplace  features  were  dignified  by  his 
sorrow.  And  the  slow  tears,  that,  unheeded,  rolled  down  his  cheeks, 
seemed  the  first  heavy  rain-drops  that  presage  storm. 

"  Do  you  not  think  if  I,  a  stranger,  went  with  you,  these  people 
would  be  shamed  into  admitting  you  ?  "  said  Matthew. 


A   BROTHER'S  HELP. 


93 


"Will  you  go  ?  "  the  man  answered  eagerly.  And  then,  "  Wait  :  I 
will  ask  leave  of  absence."  Hurriedly  he  left  Matthew,  who  made  his 
explanation  to  Christine  and  her  escorts. 

"  I  cannot  go  with  you,  my  child.     There  is  some  one  in  trouble. 
Use  your  eyes  for  me,  love,  and  to-night 
tell  me  of  the  schools." 

To  her  these  words  were   all- 
sufficient.     Duty  ever  was  Mat 
thew's  life's  rule.     Tenderly 
pressing     his    hand,    she 
made  no  further  com 
ment  than  her  sim 
ple  assent. 

John  Smith  sug 
gested,  "  Might  not 
the  person  wait  ?  " 
And  Malcolm,  with 
an  expression  too 
bright  to  be  sympathetic, 
too  charming  to  be  unat 
tractive,  said  nothing,  but 
thought,  "  What  an  old  softy  ! 
He'd  rather  tag  after  the  lame, 
halt,  and  blind,  than  sit  down  to  a  fatted  calf."  And  then,  with  most 
winning  grace,  he  helped  his  wife  into  the  carriage,  held  the  door  for 
his  uncle,  and,  cordially  shaking  Matthew's  hand,  hoped  he  would 
return  to  them  soon,  as  neither  he  nor  Christine  felt  willing  to  yield 
too  much  of  this  last  day. 

Christine,  turning  to  look  back  at  her  grandfather,  saw  him  walk 
ing  rapidly  down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  a  little  group  of  cottages 
clustering  under  shade-trees. 


FRIEND,   YOU    ARE    IN    TROUBLE.' 


94 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A    VICTIM. 

ITH   quick   steps,   Matthew  and  Foreman   Renan 
walked  on. 

"  If  any  thing  happens,  I  don't  know  what  will 
become  of  me.  I  forced  this  marriage  upon  her ; 
and  yesterday  I  went  to  see  her,  and  found  her 
weeping.  It  is  her  first  confinement,  poor  child  ! 
Think  of  her  without  other  help  than  those  layers- 
on-of-hands  !  I  spoke  to  that  dolt,  her  husband ; 
offered  to  pay  for  nurse  and  doctor.  But  his  words, 
'  My  mother  came  through  all  right  :  she  can  run  the 
f  same  risk,'  were  my  only  answer.  Ah,  stranger !  faith  is  a 
different  matter  when  it  must  be  exercised  for  your  own  flesh  and 
blood.  At  such  a  time,  and  not  a  woman  near  her ! "  Thus,  in 
whispers,  groaning,  and  hanging  down  his  head,  Renan,  in  disjointed 
sentences,  poured  out  his  troubled  thoughts  upon  the  sympathetic 
silence  of  this  man,  who,  from  stranger,  had  now  become  trusted 
friend. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Renan,  stopping  before  a  neat  little  house 
with  clustering  vines,  its  garden  surrounded  by  a  white  painted  fence. 
But  just  now,  to  a  stranger,  it  would  have  seemed  the  abode  of  the 
insane  from  the  strange  noises  which  proceeded  from  it.  The  air  was 
made  hideous  by  loud  groans  in  different  voices  mingled  with  curious 
gutteral  chants  ;  and  occasionally  from  the  open  windows  was  vio- 


'  A    VICTIM.  95 

lently  thrown  some  simple  article  of  household  ware,  —  pans,  pots, 
flat-irons,  pillows,  chairs,  each  in  turn  was  dashed  away  by  unseen 
hands.  The  grass  was  literally  covered  with  the  inner  ware  of  a 
modest  household. 

Matthew  groaned  in  spirit  at  these  evidences  of  the  ignorance  and 
superstition  cultivated  among  people  living  under  the  protection  of 
what  is  called  "  an  enlightened  country." 

"  America  the  land  of  advance  ? "  He  questioned  it,  as  thus 
brought  face  to  face  with  an  illustration  of  superstition  equal  to  the 
dark  ages.  He  knew  by  experience  what  these  signs  portended.  Had 
he  not,  in  his  own  little  village,  known  Bishop  White  and  his  deacons 
groan  and  pray  around  the  bed  of  the  sick,  letting  the  patient  die, 
actually  die  in  torture,  when  some  simple  remedy  would  have  relieved, 
perhaps  cured,  what  was  not  at  inception  a  dangerous  malady  ? 

As  Matthew  and  Renan  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  door,  waiting 
response  to  their  knock,  and  demand  for  admission,  a  faint  moan  min 
gled  with  the  hoarse  voices  of  men,  and  a  weak  cry  of  "  Mercy,  oh, 
mercy  !  "  roused  the  father  to  desperation.  He  dashed  himself  against 
the  door,  bursting  it  open,  and  then  stopped  aghast.  "  Brother," 
Matthew  had  called  him.  And  true  brother,  ready  to  help  to  his  utter 
most,  he  stood  at  his  side.  But  help  had  come  too  late  ! 

On  the  bed  lay  a  young  woman.  Pretty  she  might  have  been  but 
for  the  drawn  look  of  agony  over  a  face  paled  with  the  ashes  of 
death.  Her  blue  eyes  open,  yet  was  their  sight  gone  !  Her  hands 
extended,  held  before  her,  seemed  still  putting  away  some  object  of 
repulsion.  At  her  side,  wailing,  was  a  new-born  infant.  Uncovered, 
unwashed,  this  pitiful  bit  of  humanity  moaned  its  protest  to  the 
wrong  that  had  killed  its  mother.  And  around  the  room  stood  four 
great,  brawny  men,  who  looked  angrily  at  the  intruders. 

Not  seeing  them,  his  eyes  filled  with  something  more  horrible 
than  madness,  Renan  gazed  on  his  child.  He  sprang  to  the  bed, 


96  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

caught  in  his  those  clay-cold  hands,  tense  in  their  dying  struggle  :  he 
looked  into  those  staring,  sightless  eyes,  leaned  his  head  on  the  still 
white  breast,  and,  with  one  wild  shriek,  "  Dead  !  "  fell  writhing  on  the 
floor.  The  layers-on-of-hands,  who  had  used  their  force  on  a  woman  in 
the  throes  of  parturition,  stood  aloof  from  the  groaning,  struggling  man. 

Matthew,  alone,  unaided,  held  from  self-destruction  the  desperate, 
unconscious  hands.  Mighty  as  he  was,  the  old  man  was  strained  to 
his  uttermost.  Yet  even  now,  with  the  sweat  of  exhaustion  starting 
on  his  brow,  and  his  breath  coming  short  and  quick,  he  heard  above 
the  groans  of  the  miserable  man,  the  feeble  cry  of  that  "  motherless 
babe." 

"  Cover  the  child,  and  call  a  woman  to  attend  it,"  he  cried,  as, 
with  all  his  force,  he  struggled  with  the  man  on  the  floor.  After  some 
time,  when  Kenan's  contortions  became  less  violent,  and  he  could  for 
an  instant  relax  his  hold,  he  looked  to  see  if  his  order  had  been 
obeyed.  The  men  had  gone.  The  dead  mother,  her  now  silent  baby, 
and  that  heavily  breathing  figure  at  his  feet,  were  all  who  shared  the 
room  with  him.  Quiet,  except  for  the  horrible  stertorous  breathing, 
Renan  lay,  an  impurpled  image  of  death.  Leaving  him,  Matthew  took 
in  his  arms  the  naked  babe.  It  was  barely  breathing.  Tenderly 
wrapping  it  in  flannel,  he  dipped  his  hands  in  water,  washed  the  little 
face,  and  baptized  the  dying  child.  Even  as  he  held  it,  the  poor 
little  mouth  opened  in  a  faint  gasp,  the  little  body  quivered,  a  gurgling 
in  the  baby  throat,  and  on  his  heart  he  nestled  a  corpse. 

"Poor  innocent,"  he  said,  "even  as  thou  earnest  into  the  world 
hast  thou  returned  to  the  God  who  made  thee."  He  kissed  the  cold 
brow,  lovingly  laid  the  dead  baby  beside  its  mother,  and  reverently 
covered  them.  As  he  did  so,  he  heard  voices  outside. 

"  You  can  go  in  now.  There  was  an  evil  spirit  in  the  house.  It 
entered  the  chairs,  the  irons,  and  various  other  things.  We  threw 
them  outside,  yet  did  it  still  torment  the  woman  until  she  died." 


A    VICTIM.  97 

"  Dead  ?     And  the  child  ?  "  said  another  voice. 

"  Dead  also,  we  believe." 

A  step,  and  Matthew,  turning,  saw  a  rather  good-looking  young 
man  standing  in  the  door.  He  seemed  frightened,  advanced  timidly, 
and  said,  in  a  hesitating  manner,  - 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  ministers  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Matthew.     "  I  came  here  with  Mr.  Renan." 

For  the  first  time  the  young  man  saw  the  figure  on  the  floor,  and 
started  back  in  horror  at  the  purple  face,  the  fixed  stare  of  the  dull  eyes, 
and  the  white  froth  covering  his  lips,  and  lying  in  flecks  on  his  breast. 

"What  has  done  this?"  he  asked,  shuddering  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  away. 

"  His  daughter's  death."  And  Matthew,  to  give  point  to  his  words, 
and  waken  from  lethargy  this  man's  heart,  uncovered  the  faces  of  wife 
and  child.  The  man  leaned  for  a  moment  over  the  dead  woman, 
touched  his  lips  to  her  cheek. 

"Poor  Rose!"  he  whispered.  "Everything  was  done  that  could 
be  done  to  save  you." 

"  Sir,"  said  Matthew  sadly,  almost  sternly,  "  I  do  not  know  your 
name,  but  I  conclude  you  are  the  husband  of  that  dead  woman.  In 
her  state,  nature,  strained  to  its  uttermost,  is  in  pain  so  intense,  even 
barbarians  respect  the  sufferer.  A  woman  needs  help,  not  laying-on- 
of-hands.  Duty  is,  to  God,  fuller  of  prayer  than  spoken  words  ;  and  it 
is  duty,  sacred,  most  high,  to  minister  to  the  tortured.  That  helpless 
infant,  unwashed,  uncovered,  the  wind  blowing  on  its  tender  body, 
and  chilling  its  feeble  life,  is  as  much  the  victim  of  neglect  as  if  for 
days  it  had  been  left  unfed.  To  the  new-born,  warmth  is  the  neces 
sity  of  life.  They  are  now  both  dead.  Gone  to  their  Creator  !  We 
are  powerless  to  help  them."  Gently  he  drew  the  sheet  over  them  ; 
and  then,  in  softer  tone,  turning  to  the  young  man  who  stood  as  one 
dazed,  "  Help  me  move  Mr.  Renan  from  the  room." 


98  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Nervously,  reluctantly,  fearful  of  touching  the  sick,  the  young 
man  obeyed.  But  when  Matthew,  after  making  Renan  as  comfortable 
as  possible,  turned  to  go,  with,  "  I  will  bring  a  physician  from  the  city 
for  your  father-in-law,"  he  caught  hold  of  his  sleeve. 

"  Let  me  go,  let  me  go.  I  will  hurry  back.  I  cannot  stay  here 
alone  with  the  dead,  and  that."  And  he  pointed  nervously  at  the 
unconscious  Renan. 

Thus  Matthew  was  left,  where  he  had  so  often  been,  tending  the 
sick,  and  watching  the  dead  ;  the  only  sounds,  poor  Renan's  awful 
breathing,  until,  after  a  little,  some  women  came  in  to  lay  out  the 
bodies  in  the  adjoining  room. 

Watching  the  ghastly  face  of  the  man  so  lately  in  health,  Matthew 
prayed  that  God  would  fire  the  heart  of  Christine's  husband,  until,  be 
come  his  apostle,  he  should  glorify  his  youth  by  wakening  into  active 
life  laws  whose  might  and  power  would  stay  this  downward  path  of 
ignorance  and  sin.  Too  well  did  Matthew  know  the  weakness  of  poor 
humanity  to  think  that  law  can  wholly  conquer  sin.  But  that  law's 
power  and  that  religious  force  should  be  used  as  levers  thrusting 
towards  sin,  encouraging  crime,  were  considerations  that  filled  this 
high  nature  with  sadness  unutterable. 

When  the  doctor  arrived,  he  pronounced  Renan  dying.  After 
several  hours  the  heavy  breathing  grew  slower,  came  at  longer  inter 
vals,  and  then  was  succeeded  by  the  gasps,  tremors,  and  convulsions 
of  death. 

Gone  !  Life  with  its  hopes,  its  labors,  its  woes,  was  over  for 
him.  And  Matthew,  leaving  when  he  could  no  longer  serve,  found 
night  had  fallen,  and  John  Smith's  carriage  waiting  for  him  at  the 
gate. 

Back  into  the  city,  with  its  lights  and  bustle,  Matthew  carried  the 
shadow  of  those  tragic  deaths.  Yet  calm  his  soul  !  Though  his 
heart  grieved,  faith  kept  ever  burning  his  spirit's  lamp.  For  all  this 


A    VICTIM.  99 

pain  and  suffering  he  could  see  no  object  ;  of  these  innocent  sacri 
fices,  no  results.  Yet  God  knew  best.  "  Thy  will  be  done."  And 
this  holy  submission  shone  from  his  face  on  Christine,  as,  from  her 
post  at  the  window,  where  she  had  been  watching  for  him,  she  ran 
to  open  the  door. 


IOO 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

DIFFERENT    THINGS    TO    DIFFERENT    MEN. 

HERE  was  a  look  of  pain  in  her  eyes  that  made  him 
hold  fast  the  hand  she  slipped  in  his  as  she  sat  near 
him  ;  while  Malcolm  half  rose  from  the  lounge  where 
he  had  been  dozing,  and  said  gayly,  — 

"  We  passed  such  a  pleasant  day,  only  regretting 
.      your  absence  !     Mr.  Jansen  was  very  agreeable  and 
obliging.     Confessed  himself  so  captivated  by  Chris 
tine,  that  he  wanted  to  show  us  all  the  schools  in 
the  city.     It  was  very  edifying  to  see  so  many  young 
sters,  each  one,  we  were  assured,  fired  with  the  desire  of 
spiritual  and  temporal  advance." 

Matthew  looked  at  Christine.  She  did  not  echo  her  husband's 
pleasure.  Had  it  been  such  a  pleasant  day  ? 

"  I  don't  believe  Christine  enjoyed  herself,  despite  the  extreme 
compliments  of  our  host."  And  John  Smith  smiled  gently  at  her 
serious  face. 

No,  she  had  not  shared  Malcolm's  enjoyment.  On  leaving  Matthew, 
they  had  driven  to  a  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  With  its 
various  wings,  evidently  built  at  different  times,  it  looked  somewhat 
like  a  public  institution. 

"  Each  wing  represents  a  new  wife,"  thought  Christine,  and  sighed 
for  the  unhappy  lot  of  woman.  Yet  was  this  better  than  in  poorer 
houses,  where  oftentimes  the  bed  of  one  wife  touches  that  of  another  ; 


DIFFERENT  THINGS   TO  DIFFERENT  MEN.  IOI 

as  poverty  compels  the  several  women  belonging  to  one  man  to  share 
the  same  room. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh  ? "  asked  John  Smith,  who,  having  taken 
Matthew's  place  at  Christine's  side,  caught  the  soft  pity  of  her  breath. 
Her  eyes  passed  over  the  house,  and  then  came  back  to  his  face. 
Without  other  explanation  he  knew  her  thoughts.  Indeed,  most 
pleasant  and  strange  charm  of  this  new  uncle,  he  seemed  always  to 
understand  her. 

"  I  would  you  did  not  feel  thus,"  he  said. 

"  I  would  it  were  not  thus,"  she  answered.  And  then  Malcolm, 
with  head  leaning  back,  a  sleeping  Adonis,  the  bright  light  adding  to 
his  beauty,  started  up  as  the  carriage  stopped. 

"  I  hope,  uncle,  Mr.  Jansen  is  prepared  for  hungry  folks.  The  air 
has  made  me  ravenous,"  he  said,  as,  lightly  springing  to  the  ground, 
he  gave  his  hand  to  Christine.  Helping  her  down,  he  retained  her 
hand,  and  drew  it  in  his  arm,  his  uncle  preceding  them,  as  a  woman's 
sharp  voice  sounded  from  one  of  the  wings. 

"  Sarah  Jane,  jest  you  tell  yore  father  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  hev 
mutton  fer  my  dinner,  an'  my  chillern's,  when  Mandy's  mother'll  sit 
down  ter  goose." 

A  little  girl  ran  out  of  a  door,  then,  seeing  the  strangers,  ran 
back  quickly.  Some  words  of  scolding  and  urging  from  the  sharp 
voice,  and  then  a  blow,  and  a  child's  weeping.  But  evidently  the  poor 
little  one  would  rather  face  the  mother's  anger  than  the  strangers' 
eyes.  Malcolm  laughed,  — a  charming  laugh,  yet  it  jarred  on  Christine 
as  nothing  from  him  had  ever  before  done. 

"  Goose,  is  it,  deary  ?  "  And  he  pressed  his  wife's  hand.  "  I  hope 
it's  well  cooked,  for  I'll  do  it  honor." 

Though  his  voice  and  manner  were  tender,  yet  the  flush  on  Chris 
tine's  face  was  not  of  pleasure.  Petty  though  it  was,  she  pitied  the 
woman  who  felt  her  rights  slighted  ;  and  the  perpetual  jangling  of 


102  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

these  creatures,  forced  into  such  close  proximity,  was  brought  vividly 
before  her. 

Their  host,  and  the  wife  chosen  to  receive  them,  were  most  cordial 
to  John  Smith's  relatives.  But,  above  their  welcome,  Christine  seemed 
to  hear  the  sharp  voice,  and  that  quick  blow  to  the  little  child. 

The  lunch,  whereat  appeared  the  goose,  fat,  and  browned  to  Mal 
colm's  taste,  was  most  excellent.  The  Mrs.  Jansen  who  did  the 
honors  was  a  pretty-looking  Danish  woman.  Speaking  English  imper 
fectly,  she  atoned  for  her  deficiency  by  pleasant  smiles.  Two  sweet 
little  girls  sat  near  their  mother,  so  quiet  that  one  would  fancy  they, 
too,  were  foreigners.  Christine's  thoughts  and  sympathies  were  with 
the  neglected  wives,  sitting  in  their  lonely  wings,  and  feeling  them 
selves  slighted.  She  could  not  enjoy  the  viands  set  before  them  ; 
could  not,  except  by  silent  attention,  show  her  interest  in  the  con 
versation.  After  lunch,  bidding  adieu  to  Mrs.  Jansen,  whose  husband 
declined  for  her  Christine's  invitation  to  join  them,  they  drove  to  the 
city.  Charmed  with  the  grace  and  beauty  of  Mrs.  Malcolm  Smith, 
and  accepting  her  silence  as  the  result  of  his  own  brilliancy,  Mr. 
Jansen  expanded  into  the  most  direct  and  tiresome  compliments.  He 
was  a  short,  stout  man,  of  swarthy  skin,  and  coarse,  curly  black  hair. 
A  thorough  egotist.  One  of  those  who  accentuate  their  witticisms 
by  winks,  motions  of  fingers  and  thumbs,  interspersed  with,  "  Don't 
you  see  ?  Do  you  catch  it  ? "  and  always,  by  their  own  laughter, 
showing  their  appreciation  of  home  wit,  and  giving  the  signal  to 
more  obtuse  listeners. 

Malcolm,  pleased  with  his  lunch,  and  Mrs.  Jansen's  smiles,  and  a 
little  flushed  with  wine,  laughed  heartily  at  Mr.  Jansen's  remarks,  — 
too  hearty  and  prolonged  laughter  if  it  had  been  other  than  Malcolm. 
But  his  face  and  form  were  the  embodiment  of  joyousness ;  and 
his  voice  had  such  a  clear  ring  to  it,  that  Christine  smiled,  though 
failing  to  see  the  humor  which  so  amused  him.  And  John  Smith 


DIFFERENT  THINGS   TO  DIFFERENT  MEN. 


103 


smiled  because  she  did.  When  they  reached  the  school  selected  for 
the  visit,  Mr.  Jansen,  though  lacking  a  half-head  of  Christine's  grace 
ful  height,  offered  her  his  arm.  And  she,  flushing,  not  quite  used  to 
this  manner  of  walking  through  a  building,  seeing  her  husband's  look, 
accepted  it  with  dignity. 

"  A  man  is  not  great  by  his  inches  ; "  and  lack  of  inches  is  not  felt 
by  either  the  man  or  woman  when  force, 
physical  and  mental,  makes  a  woman 
gladly  acknowledge  lord  and  mas 
ter.     Yet  if  ever  a  small  man, 
with    small    traits,    shows 
most  to  disadvantage, 
it  is  when  close  to 
a    woman    whose 
face,  seeking  purer 
atmosphere,  is  lifted 
above  his  own. 

But  Mr.  Jansen  did 
not  feel  this.      Great   in 
his  own  esteem,  he  never 
doubted  the  esteem  of  others, 
and  grew  quite  confidential  to 
Christine. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  madam 
(and  he  gave  a  little  snort  of  satisfaction  after  the  manner  of  a  water- 
dog),  "  these  schools  are  one  of  our  cleverest  bits  of  management. 
The  United  States  insists  we  shall  have  public  schools  "  (a  quick  little 
shrug).  "  We  always  obey  the  United  States  "  (a  knowing  wink),  "  so 
we  have  them.  The  taxes  support  them  ;  and  the  Gentiles  —  those 
sons  of  perdition  —  pay  their  full  share.  Officers  must  be  elected. 
God  is  just.  We  outnumber  the  accursed  Gentiles ;  so,  in  elections, 


OI-FKRKD    HKR    HI: 


104  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

we  have  our  own  way.  Good,  faithful  Mormons  are  trustees  :  good, 
faithful  Mormons  are  superintendents.  Mormon  teachers  are  em 
ployed.  The  blessed  book  of  Mormon  revelations,  given  to  our  most 
glorious  founder,  is 'the  Bible  for  these  cells  of  learning,  the  guide  to 
the  growing  youth,  who  will,  ere  the  century  closes,  own  and  govern 
this  great  land  from  ocean  to  ocean.  If  for  the  present  we  are,  by 
tyranny,  forced  to  bow  to  that  farcical  government  called  the  United 
States,  yet,  by  the  power  of  God,  who  watches  over  his  saints,  we  are 
enabled  to  turn  those  very  laws  to  our  own  use.  And  by  this  power 
we  are  enabled,  with  less  expense,  to  educate,  in  holy  Mormon  doc 
trines,  the  coming  rulers  of  the  land." 

He  had  been  speaking  very  loud,  as  if  addressing  the  hundred  or 
more  children,  who,  over  their  books,  had  been  intently  gazing  at  the 
visitors  standing  in  the  door-way.  Warming  with  his  subject,  he  had 
released  Christine's  hand,  seeking  his  handkerchief  to  mop  his  head. 
Her  face  had  flushed  to  rosy  red.  Feeling  herself  out  of  place,  and 
misunderstood,  thoroughly  opposed  to  every  word  he  had  uttered,  still 
she  was  unable  to  speak  the  thoughts  that  filled  her  mind.  Could 
she,  the  wife  and  niece  of  Mormons,  proclaim  her  opinion  of  their 
church  ?  For  the  first  time,  through  all  her  love,  she  felt  the  falsity 
of  her  position.  She  looked  at  the  children  with  a  heart  full  of  pity, 
thinking  what  future  fruit  such  teachings  would  bear.  Bowing  gravely 
to  them,  she  moved  on  ;  and  her  down-cast  lids  hid  tearful  eyes,  —  Mr. 
Jansen  at  her  side,  chuckling  as  at  some  huge  joke,  while  with  nods, 
winks,  attempted  nudges,  and  pointing  of  fingers,  he  thought  he  car 
ried  with  him  the  entire  sympathy  of  his  listener.  Again  he  offered 
her  his  arm.  But  this  time  Christine  would  neither  see  it  nor  Mal 
colm's  face.  Her  husband  was  pleased  with  the  admiration  of  Mr. 
Jansen.  Its  coarseness  and  boldness  did  not  offend  his  delicate  feel 
ings.  John  Smith,  on  the  contrary,  resented  the  familiarity  of  his 
so-called  friend.  Never  before  had  Jansen  appeared  equally  offensive  ; 


DIFFERENT  THINGS   TO  DIFFERENT  MEN.  105 

and,  as  Christine  moved  away  to  avoid  a  more  persistent  nudge,  he 
clinched  his  hand  so  tight  that  his  glove  was  torn.  He  said  nothing, 
however ;  for  Jansen  was  a  power  in  his  way,  and  John  Smith  preferred 
tools  to  enemies.  But  presently,  much  to  Mr.  Jansen's  surprise,  he 
found  himself  talking  to  John  Smith  ;  while  Christine  walked  beside 
her  husband,  who,  with  hands  in  his  pockets,  was  trying  to  joke  her 
about  her  conquest. 

"  It's  slow  fun  teasing  you,  dear,"  he  said,  after  a  little  ;  as  his  only 
answer  had  been  a  pained  look  from  the  lovely  eyes.  And  then  he 
thought  how  good  and  true  she  was,  —  how  far  above  the  trifling 
women,  whose  vanity,  on  the  alert,  catches  at  every  crumb  of  praise. 
She  was  beautiful  too  :  every  one  noticed  that.  He  was  a  lucky 
fellow  to  have  won  her.  And  again  she  seemed  to  lift  him  up  from 
the  shallow  current  of  his  life,  as  in  those  days  of  sweet-breathed 
spring. 

They  drove  Mr.  Jansen  to  his  city-office,  where,  with  much  flourish 
of  compliment,  he  took  his  leave ;  then  home,  whence  John  Smith  sent 
the  carriage  for  Matthew.  The  quiet  hour  of  waiting,  John  Smith 
relieved  by  pleasant  converse  ;  not  talking  too  much,  but,  with  intro 
duction  of  new  thought,  striving  to  quiet  Christine's  flushed,  excited 
face,  that  moved  him  strangely.  And  Malcolm,  stretched  on  the 
lounge,  beautiful,  graceful,  lazy,  smoked  and  dozed,  until,  at  Matthew's 
entrance,  he  sprang  up  gay  and  fresh  as  a  boy. 

Christine  held  her  grandfather's  hand  in  hers,  —  old,  but  firm,  and 
so  tender  !  How  long  she  had  clung  to  it  !  How  faithfully  it  had 
guided  her !  To-morrow  she  would  lose  him.  To-morrow  would  break 
the  last  link  that  bound  her  to  her  old  life,  —  the  natural  one.  And 
now  in  this  new  life,  that  to-night  seemed  so  out  of  tune,  she  must 
walk  alone.  Alone !  The  thought  came  unbidden.  Like  skeleton 
at  feast,  it  reared  its  ghastly  head,  frightening  the  love  that  was 
her  bosom's  guest. 


106  SALT- LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Christine  !  "  Malcolm  called  her.  Malcolm  loved  her  !  His 
voice,  his  look,  sent  the  warm  blood  surging  through  her  veins,  flush 
ing  into  deeper  pink  the  roses  on  her  cheek,  and  wakening  the  lus 
trous  eyes  into  newer  depth  and  beauty.  Malcolm  saw  it,  and  drew 
her  down  to  sit  beside  him.  John  Smith  saw  it,  and,  with  serious 
eyes,  gazed  on  her  ;  while,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  his  heart  con 
tracted  in  sudden,  violent  spasm  of  pain. 

Matthew  saw  these  two  —  husband  and  wife  —  looking  tenderly  at 
each  other  ;  and  blessing  them,  praying  for  them,  the  old  man  forgot 
himself. 


THEIR  MARRIED  LIFE. 


107 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THEIR    MARRIED    LIFE. 

HEN,  the  next  morning,  Matthew  had  to  return  home, 
and,  taking  his  child  in  his  arms,  kissed  and  blessed 
her ;  when  Christine,  with  tear-blinded  eyes,  that  could 
no  longer  see  the  dear  old  face  smiling  at  her  from  the 
car-window,  turned  to  Malcolm  in  a  mute  appeal  for  sym 
pathy,  —  it  was  John  Smith's  hand  that  clasped  her  own, 
and,  drawing  it  within  his  arm,  led  her  to  the  carriage 
as  the  cars  rolled  out  of  the  depot. 

She  was  thankful  to  him,  yet  grieved  that  Malcolm's 
was  not  the  answering  spirit,  and,  looking  around  to 
find  him,  saw  her  husband's  handsome  face  in  a  group  of  other  faces, 
chatting  away,  and  laughing,  apparently  forgetful  of  any  greater  inter 
ests.  There  came  over  her  heart  an  icy  wind,  that  chilled  the  soft  dew 
of  her  tears. 

John  Smith,  watching  her,  and  reading  her  feelings,  was  vexed 
with  his  nephew.  He  leaned  out  of  the  carriage,  and  called  him. 
With  his  quick,  light  step,  and  smiling  face,  Malcolm  came  to  them  ; 
and,  noticing  Christine's  tears,  he  took  her  hand,  and  tenderly  kissed  it. 
Thus  he  atoned  for  his  neglect.  He  had  such  a  tender  way  of  giving 
even  the  slightest  caress,  he  did  not  find  it  difficult  to  win  forgiveness 
from  one  that  loved  like  Christine. 

Weeks  passed.  Malcolm  remained  more  away  from  home  ;  and 
the  long  walks  together,  which,  to  Christine,  had  been  such  pleasure, 


108  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

came  now  at  longer  and  longer  intervals.  Yet  would  she  chide  her 
self  for  her  "  loneliness,"  and  find  repayment  for  the  day's  stillness 
when  evening  would  come,  and,  lying  on  the  lounge,  Malcolm  would 
sometimes  hold  her  hand  as  she  read  or  sang  to  him,  while  he  looked 
at  her  as  tenderly  as  when  they  stood  beneath  the  orchard-trees,  and 
wandered  through  the  country's  sweet  by-ways.  But  often,  when  she 
would  raise  her  eyes  from  the  book  to  find  response  in  his  sympathy  to 
some  thought  that  had  touched  her,  she  would  see  his  eyes,  so  lately 
looking  at  her,  were  closed  in  softest  slumber,  and  between  the  parted, 
smiling  lips  came  regular  breathing,  telling  of  his  quiet  sleep  :  then 
she  would  reproach  herself  for  the  pang  of  disappointment  that  echoed 
through  her  heart. 

John  Smith  came  very  often.  His  wives  were  still  away,  as 
was  most  of  the  fashionable  Mormon  world.  Some  now  were 
beginning  to  return ;  and  Christine  had  many  visits,  and  some 
invitations  to  quiet  evenings.  Malcolm  had  looked  forward  with 
exultation  to  the  sensation  she  would  make,  but  was  annoyed  almost 
to  anger  when  he  saw  how  quiet  and  reserved  she  became  in 
society. 

Although  for  years  Christine  had  lived  in  a  Mormon  settlement, 
she  had  not  become  socially  accustomed  to  the  plurality  of  wives. 
Feeling  for  polygamy  the  greatest  abhorrence,  Matthew  had  guarded 
her  early  girlhood  from  all  intimacies  that  could  wash  away  the  black 
ness  of  this  sin.  Tabitha  and  her  children  had  been  her  only  intimate 
friends,  to  whose  home  she  had  gone  freely  and  constantly.  To  all 
she  went  with  Matthew  when  need  or  sorrow  called  them.  When  suf 
fering  humanity  can  be  relieved,  who  stops  to  think  of  social,  religious, 
or  even  moral,  questions  ?  Not  Christine,  nor  her  example  and  pre 
ceptor,  Matthew.  And  among  the  villagers,  to  whom  all  they  had  was 
freely  given,  it  had  not  seemed  strange  that  Matthew  and  his  child 
never  mingled  in  their  dances  and  pleasures.  Consequently,  when,  in 


THEIR  MARRIED  LIFE.  109 

Salt  Lake,  Christine  was  socially  introduced  in  Mormon  families, 
polygamy  had  for  her  all  the  horrors  of  novelty. 

Mr.  Brown  and  the  five  Mrs.  Browns,  or  Mr.  Jones  and  his  two 
wives,  would,  from  the  instant  of  her  presentation,  fill  her  with  grief 
and  shame  for  an  institution  that  sanctioned  such  a  state,  and  called 
it  marriage.  Intense  pity  for  her  sister-women  paralyzed  her  quick 
ideas  ;  and,  instead  of  delighting  Malcolm's  friends  by  her  bright  and 
varied  discourse,  they  saw  only  a  tall,  graceful  woman,  with  expressive 
face,  and  large,  dark  eyes,  who  rarely  smiled,  and  spoke  but  little. 
That  the  smile  was  sweet,  the  words  apt,  did  not  seem  to  impress 
them.  Malcolm  bit  his  lip  to  keep  back  angry  words.  Yet  for  all 
her  sweetness,  and  that  still  the  glamour  of  her  charms  was  upon 
him,  he  would  have  spoken  his  annoyance  but  for  the  evidently  in 
creasing  admiration  of  his  uncle.  His  appreciation  of  Christine,  his 
enjoyment  of  her  society,  stirred  the  lagging  affection  of  this  beau 
teous  youth,  and  still  kept  him  from  avowing  even  to  himself  a  slight 
but  growing  ennui  at  the  quiet  domesticity  into  which  he  had  hurried. 
Christine,  brought  up  in  a  life  of  active  good-doing,  found  her  idle 
days  very  wearisome  to  her.  Sharing  each  useful  labor  with  her  grand 
father,  listening  to  his  earnest  thoughts,  she  had  known  peace  and 
contentment.  She  looked  around,  eager  to  find  outlet  for  all  her  pent- 
up  activity.  But  as  now,  Malcolm  having  less  and  less  leisure,  she 
timidly  wandered  forth  alone,  in  all  this  great  city  she  could  find  only 
the  street-beggars  who  wanted  any  thing  of  her.  Always  she  gave 
them  something.  It  was  the  sole  wish  of  her  husband  that  she  had 
opposed,  when,  as  they  walked  together,  these  beggars  had  thrust 
their  hands  before  her,  and  knocked  at  her  tender  heart  with  piteous 
tale.  She  had  said  to  Malcolm,  - 

"  Ah  !  let  me  give  a  trifle,  dear.  If  they  are  impostors,  it  is  too  little 
to  injure  any  one  ;  and,  if  needy,  I  will  not  have  refused  my  mite."  To 
which  he  made  no  further  remonstrance  than  a  shrug,  and  "  Oh,  well ! " 


110 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


Soon  he  did  not  even  notice  the  old  bodies  who  had  become  regular 
pensioners  on  his  wife  ;  for  now  he  so  "  rarely  had  the  time  for  pleas- 


"THE  BEGGARS  THRUST  THEIR  THIN  HANDS  BEFORE  HER." 

ure,"  he   explained  to    Christine,  as,  with    eyes   more    than   lips,  she 
asked  him  for  what  she  so  dearly  prized,  —  his  company. 


WITH  THE   MRS.   SMITHS. 


1 1 1 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

WITH  THE  MRS.   SMITHS. 

'ND  John  Smith  !  How  was  it  with  him,  —  a  man  long 
past  forty,  who  had  great  wealth,  and  the  greatest  in 
fluence  in  all  Utah,  whose  life's  motive  had  been  ambi 
tion,  and  for  whom  remained  but  one  higher  round  on 
the  ladder  he  had  so  successfully  climbed. 

He  was  studying  a  new  character.  This  woman, 
young  enough  to  be  his  daughter,  with  her  earnest 
thoughts,  her  noble  aims,  her  tenderness  for  all  human 
ity,  however  fallen,  was  a  fresh  experience  to  him. 
When  he  first  saw  her  as  Malcolm's  wife,  their  love  and 
interest  for  each  other  amused  him.  It  seemed  a  little 
drama  played  for  him  alone.  And  he  would  often  wonder,  if,  in  his 
youth,  he  had  met  such  a  woman,  could  she  have  satisfied  the  cravings 
of  his  nature  ?  Would  she  have  filled  his  heart,  and  made  him  happier 
than  the  cold  goddess,  Ambition,  at  whose  feet  he  had  laid  every  pure 
and  joyous  impulse  of  his  life  ? 

On  their  return  to  the  city,  Malcolm  and  Christine  were  invited 
to  meet  John  Smith's  three  wives.  The  house  was  large  and  hand 
some,  the  parlors  elegantly  furnished.  As  Christine  entered  on  the 
arm  of  her  husband,  and  three  ladies  rose  to  receive  her,  her  embarrass 
ment  would  have  been  great ;  but  John  Smith,  with  ready  ease  of 
manner,  came  forward,  and,  leading  her  to  the  tallest  of  the  three, 
said,  — 


112 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


"  Letitia,  let  me  present  my  niece,  Mrs.  Malcolm  Smith." 

Mrs.   Letitia  Smith  bowed,  and,  extending  her  hand,  said  she  was 

pleased  to  see  her.     Then  Christine  was  presented  to  the  other  two 

Mrs.  Smiths,  and,  by  the  order  of  presentation,  knew  they  ranked  as 

one,  two,  three. 

She  tried  to  entertain  the  three  quiet  ladies,  but  seemed  to  herself 

to  utter  only  the  stupidest  commonplaces. 


PRESENTED    TO    THE    MRS.    SMITHS. 


Malcolm,  who  had  quite  a  respect  for  the  wives  of  his  uncle,  was 
really  displeased  with  the  impression  Christine  was  making,  then  sud 
denly  bethought  him  of  her  voice. 

"  Sing,  Christine,"  he  said. 

"Will  you  sing?"  John  Smith  interposed,  and,  opening  the  piano, 
came  to  lead  her  to  it. 

Christine,  with    grief,    had    noticed    Malcolm's    displeasure.      She, 


WITH  THE  MRS.   SMITHS.  113 

who  had  never  met  but  loving  glances,  now  saw  a  frown  on  the  face 
she  most  loved. 

Timidly  raising  her  eyes  to  John  Smith,  she  said,  — 

"  I  will  sing  for  you  with  pleasure  if  you  like  my  voice.  But  I 
do  not  play.  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  added,  turning  to  Malcolm  as  if  in 
apology. 

John  Smith  had  seen  this  country-bred  girl  move  and  act  like  a 
queen.  Always  gentle,  but  always  dignified,  this  timidity  seemed 
strange  in  her.  And  yet  she  never  looked  so  lovely  in  his  eyes  as 
now.  He  did  not  understand  that  the  mainspring  of  her  gentle  dig 
nity  was  simple  truth  of  character.  And  always  sure  of  pleasing  the 
dear  grandfather,  who  had  been  her  only  critic  up  to  Malcolm's  com 
ing,  she  had  never  felt  timid. 

"  I  will  accompany  you  on  the  piano,"  said  Mrs.  Smith  No.  3. 

But  John  Smith,  whose  ears  were  very  sensitive,  dreaded  the 
effect  of  Mrs.  Smith's  music,  and  said  quickly,  — 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear.  But,  as  Christine  generally  sings  without 
accompaniment,  perhaps  she  will  thus  be  more  at  ease."  Then,  turn 
ing  towards  Christine,  he  said,  "  Will  you  sing  ?  " 

His  voice  unconsciously  took  a  more  gentle  tone  in  speaking  to 
her.  Like  his  face,  his  voice  was  generally  cold.  But,  at  will,  the 
cold  gray  eyes  would  flash,  and  his  voice  possess  the  power  and 
variety  of  every  human  passion. 

At  these  moments  the  whole  man  was  transfigured.  And  John 
Smith,  who  ordinarily  appeared  a  middle-aged  man  of  medium  height, 
and  rather  heavy  build,  with  intelligent  face,  and  cold,  searching  eyes, 
seemed,  by  the  force  of  a  positive  character  and  the  gift  of  eloquence, 
to  tower  above  all  surrounding  men. 

This  change  he  could  produce  at  will.  And  to  this  iron  will  he 
made  himself,  his  every  impulse,  and  almost  all  who  approached  him, 
the  mere  automatons.  He  did  not  use  the  slightest  inflection  of  voice, 


114  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

except  in  obedience  to  his  mighty  will.  Yet  at  this  very  moment,  at 
the  timid  raising  to  his  of  a  pair  of  soft  dark  eyes,  his  voice  had  ceased 
obedience  to  its  master. 

Still  hesitating,  Christine  turned  to  Malcolm  with  the  question, 
"  Which  song  do  you  most  like  ? "  trembling  on  her  lips.  Ah,  how 
anxious  she  was  to  please  him  ! 

Seeing  her  motion,  and  not  understanding,  or  not  wishing  to  under 
stand,  he  said  impatiently,  — 

"  Oh,  do  sing  !  " 

Saddened  and  depressed,  the  girl's  thoughts  flew  to  her  grand 
father  ;  and  she  sang  one  of  his  favorites,  — 

"  I  have  left  my  snow-clad  hills." 

Her  rich  voice  filled  the  room,  and  thrilled  the  hearts  of  her  lis 
teners.  When  the  song  died  out,  she  did  not  move  ;  the  hands, 
which  her  grandfather  always  held  while  she  sang  to  him,  lying  idly 
in  her  lap  ;  the  dark  eyes,  glistening  with  unshed  tears,  fixed  on 
space.  Her  heart  was  still  with  the  old  man.  She  had  almost  forgot 
ten  where  she  was,  until  she  heard  John  Smith  saying  to  Malcolm,  — 

"  She  has  a  magnificent  voice,  and  sings  well.  But  she  must  learn 
the  piano,  or  the  effect  in  general  society  will  be  much  lessened." 

These  words  broke  in  on  her  dreams  of  home.  She  moved  nearer 
the  three  ladies,  who,  like  the  three  Fates,  always  made  a  group 
together. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Smith  No.  i. 

And  Christine,  feeling  she  had  given  pleasure,  was  repaid. 


A   SOCIAL    TRIUMPH. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A    SOCIAL    TRIUMPH. 

'HE  days  passed  on,  each  bringing  some  change. 
Acting  on  his  uncle's  suggestion,  Malcolm  at  once 
supplied  Christine  with  a  teacher  of  music.  Her 
supple  fingers,  natural  talent,  and  great  applica 
tion,  made  her  progress  in  the  study  appear 
remarkable.  The  long,  lonely  hours  of  the  day 
she  would  while  away  at  the  piano,  which,  the 
morning  after  her  first  song  for  Mr.  Smith,  had 
arrived  with  a  card,  "  From  your  uncle." 
And  sometimes,  of  an  evening,  when  she  would  play 
some  simple  accompaniment  to  her  voice's  melody,  John 
Smith  would  listen,  and  compliment  her  improvement,  as  Malcolm  half 
dozed  on  the  sofa. 

While  Christine's  musical  studies  were  still  in  their  infancy,  she 
scored  a  social  triumph  that  delighted  her  husband ;  as  few  things  she 
now  did  seemed  to  affect  him.  They  were  invited  to  the  season's 
first  large  reception  in  the  fashionable  Mormon  world.  John  Smith 
showed  as  much  interest  in  Christine's  toilet  as  if  he  were  father  as 
well  as  uncle. 

When,  in  soft,  pearly  satin,  with  the  crimson  roses  in  her  hair,  at 
her  throat,  and  in  her  hands,  that  f  he  had  sent  for  her  adornment,  she 
looked  half  timidly  for  Malcolm's  approbation,  John  Smith  thought 
he  had  never  seen  lovelier  vision  of  woman.  His  heart  throbbed 


Il6  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

wildly,  his  throat  grew  dry  and  hard,  but  his  smile  and  manner  were 
an  uncle's  calm  admiration  of  his  niece's  charms. 

"  You  look  very  well,  my  dear,"  he  said  quietly.  While  Malcolm, 
anew  impressed  with  her  beauty,  kissed  her  soft  cheek. 

It  was  on  this  evening  Christine  was  introduced  to  Elder  Sanson 
and  his  two  wives.  He  was  a  prominent  and  wealthy  member  of  the 
church.  The  second  wife  had  been  but  lately  "sealed"  to  him.  She 
was  a  fresh-looking  girl,  with  an  amiable,  rather  heavy,  face,  seemingly 
pleased  to  have  gained  the  affection  of  a  man  in  high  standing  with 
church  and  state,  and  though  really  young  enough  to  be  the  daughter 
of  the  elderly  lady  who  had  for  years  been  chief  in  her  husband's 
counsels,  yet  was  treated  by  her  with  a  consideration  amounting  almost 
to  reverence. 

To  Christine  this  phase  of  human  nature  was  inexplicable.  All 
the  more,  that  Mrs.  Sanson,  senior,  was  a  woman  of  intelligence  and 
reading,  whose  strongly  marked  features  told  of  resolute  character. 
She  seemed  to  recognize  the  rare  gifts  hidden  beneath  the  quiet  of 
Malcolm's  wife.  Perhaps  this  proceeded  from  the  fact  that  John 
Smith,  who  introduced  his  niece  to  Mrs.  Sanson,  was  an  old  acquaint 
ance  of  the  lady's. 

Determined  that  Christine  should  be  appreciated  by  one  of  the 
most  highly  esteemed  women  of  the  church,  he  remained  near  them. 

Exerting  his  own  charms  of  manner  and  conversation,  he  lifted 
the  thoughts  of  Christine  from  the  tenets  and  practice  of  a  religion 
that  were  forever  wounding  her  tender  soul.  For  the  moment  for 
getting  that  great  moral  wrong  which  crushed  her  thoughts  with  the 
silence  of  disapproval,  Christine  spoke  as  she,  had  been  wont.  And 
though,  unconsciously,  each  pure  utterance  was  a  reproach  to  the 
state  of  society  wherein  she  found  herself,  these  two  pillars  of  that 
society  seemed  in  sympathy  with  her  fair  thoughts. 

They  were  sitting  in  a  corner  of  one  of  the  suites  of  rooms  thrown 


A   SOCIAL    TRIUMPH.  I  17 

open  to  receive  the  guests ;  and,  interchanging  thoughts  and  fancies, 
they  found  themselves  congenial  spirits.  In  all  the  dreary  round  of 
gayeties,  wherein  her  husband's  will  had  led  her,  this  was  one  of  the 
few  evenings  for  Christine  marked  as  pleasant.  Soon  after  their 
arrival  at  the  reception,  Malcolm,  seeing  the  constrained  look  and 
manner,  which  were  the  invariable  result  in  Christine  of  being  brought 
face  to  face  with  polygamy,  with  a  muttered  excuse  left  her  to  his 
uncle's  care.  Almost  savage  with  anger,  he  hastened  to  another 
room,  where  some  time  later,  jesting  with  some  gay  companions  of 
bachelor  days,  the  voice  of  his  wife  reached  him.  She  was  singing 
a  Norwegian  ballad  of  faithfulness  and  love.  Once  in  those  spring- 
days,  which  for  him  were  quickly  slipping  into  the  sea  of  forgetful- 
ness,  she  had  given  him  a  hasty  translation  of  the  song.  And  now 
each  word,  clear  as  then  she  spoke  it,  fell  on  his  ear. 

"  True  to  thee,  beloved,  though  thy  face  I  no  more  see, 
True  to  thee,  and  knowing  thou  art  ever  true  to  me. 
Once  living,  love  cannot  die ;  it  is  not  a  thing  of  earth ; 
From  dust  that  forms  the  body,  it  springs  to  heaven  where  it  had  birth. 
Like  star  of  that  bright  heaven,  it  shines  down  on  my  soul, 
Where  half  of  me  is  waiting  for  this  half  that  makes  the  whole. 
The  day  is  long  and  dreary,  how  dark  and  sad  the  night ! 
But  I  know  that  still  thou  lov'st  me,  and  through  death  I'll  reach  the  light." 

An  occasional  chord  of  the  piano  reverberated  through  the  rooms, 
a  harmonious  accompaniment  to  the  rich  voice.  Conversation  ceased. 
The  melody  was  within  the  understanding  of  all.  And  the  words,  — 
did  they  touch  any  hearts  ? 

At  the  piano  Christine  sang,  her  look  most  perfect  illustration  of 
her  song.  Standing  near  her  was  John  Smith,  quiet  and  self-con 
trolled.  But  there  was  one  from  whose  face  those  simple  words  had 
torn  the  mask.  Mrs.  Sanson  !  Seated  in  her  chair  near  the  piano, 


n8 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


she  had  forgotten  place,  people,  every  thing  but  her  own  sufferings, 
and  those  who  had  caused  them. 

Leaning  forward,  with  one  hand  crushed 
against  her  side,  the  other  raised  and 
clinched  as  if  it  held  a  dagger,  her 
face  was  drawn  in  fiercest  passion. 
And,    through    the    teeth,    tight 
closed,  with  hissing  sound  came 
hurried  breath.     So  the  Borgia 
might  have  looked,  as,  furious 
at    the    insult    to    her    name, 
she  vowed  vengeance  on   her 
wronger.     It  was  this   hissing 
sound  that  drew  John  Smith's 
eyes  from  the  fair  face  of  his 
niece.     He  started  slightly  as 
he  looked  at  the  woman  before 
him  ;  waited  for  a  moment,  half 
expecting  to  see   in   that   up 
raised  hand  the  gleam  of  weap 
on    ready   to   strike   a   deadly 
blow.     And  then   he   involun 
tarily  followed  the  intense  look 
of  those  eyes. 

There,  in  another  corner, 
were  Elder  Sanson  and  his 
young  wife.  He  had  evidently 

made  some  allusion  to  the  song,  and  was  holding  her  arm  in  a  manner 
intended  to  be  concealed.  A  bland,  elderly  smile  was  on  his  face.  He 
was  well  satisfied  with  himself,  and  this  young  woman  who  belonged 
to  him.  And  she,  looking  unaccustomed  to  such  gallantries,  was  yet 


CHRISTINE    SANG." 


A   SOCIAL    TRIUMPH.  119 

pleased  with  them  in  a  good-natured,  phlegmatic  way.  A  curious  smile 
parted  the  lips  of  John  Smith,  as,  from  them,  his  eyes  returned  to  the 
intense  face  of  the  first  wife.  Apparently  by  accident  he  stepped  on 
her  dress,  recalling  her  to  herself,  and  the  fact  that  Christine's  hand 
had  struck  the  final  chord ;  while  in  through  open  doors  were  crowding 
the  guests,  whose  departure  from  the  room  had  left  it  almost  entirely 
to  their  little  circle.  It  was  then  that  John  Smith  had  asked  Christine 
to  sing  for  Mrs.  Sanson  ;  adding,  as  explanation  of  her  lack  of  pro 
ficiency  on  the  piano,  "  My  niece  has  only  begun  the  study  of  instru 
mental  music,  but  we  are  quite  proud  of  the  progress  she  has  made." 
Turning  to  Christine,  he  had  said,  — 

"  Sing  the  ballad  you  sang  last  night  for  Malcolm." 

Complying  readily  and  gracefully,  her  thoughts  had  been  of  Mal 
colm,  and  those  happy  days,  when,  wandering  together,  tracing  the 
footsteps  of  beautiful  spring  in  the  flowers  she  had  called  to  life, 
Christine  had  wakened  to  love. 

And  now  the  tenderness  in  her  face  had  set  one  man's  heart  a-fire, 
but  not  Malcolm's.  He  felt  only  pride  at  the  sensation  her  glorious 
voice  had  made.  He  flushed  with  pleasure  as  he  saw  the  crowd  sur 
rounding  the  piano,  beseeching  new  songs.  And  Christine,  looking 
past  all  other  faces  to  his,  caught  his  smile  of  approval,  and,  with 
deepening  feeling  in  her  eyes,  turned  to  listen  to  the  thanks  of  Mrs. 
Sanson. 

Perfectly  self-possessed  now,  the  lady  spoke  in  her  usual  meas 
ured  way,  not  a  trace  of  excitement  lingering  in  voice  or  face.  John 
Smith  felt  a  thrill  of  admiration,  as  at  this  moment  Elder  Sanson, 
with  his  new  wife,  joined  the  group  around  Christine,  and  the  older 
wife  moved,  and  graciously  welcomed  them  beside  her. 

"Very  pretty,"  said  Elder  Sanson,  whose  face  bore  index  to  a 
character  that  conscience  would  rarely  stir  to  self-reproach. 

"Very  pretty,"    echoed    the   young  wife.      "Don't   you   think    so, 


I2O 


SALT- LAKE  FRUIT. 


sister  ?  "     And   she    turned    to  her  partner  in    the  possession  of   the 
portly  elder. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Sanson  No.  i  ;  and  for  a  mo 
ment,  in  the  kindliest  manner,  she  rested  her  gloved  hand  on  the 
plump  white  one  of  this  strange  sister.  "  It  is  a  lovely  song,  and 
well  sung." 

Christine,  looking   at    the   two  women    standing  thus  in  pleasant 
nearness,  marvelled  more  and  more  at  the  powerful  influence  of  Mor 
mon  faith  over  morals 
and  hearts. 

She  was  not,  how 
ever,   given   much 
time  for  thought ;  as 
song  after  song  was 
entreated,  until  John 
Smith,  ever  watchful 
of    her,    to    relieve    his 
niece,    escorted    to    the 
piano  a  lady,  who,  shout 
ing  an  operatic  selection 
in  very  bad  style,  was  loudly  ap 
plauded. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening, 
when  saying  good-night  to  Mrs.  Sanson,  Christine  was  cordially  invited 
to  visit  her,  —  an  invitation  which  she  returned,  and  in  which  she  was 
so  ably  supplemented  by  her  husband  and  uncle,  that  Mrs.  Sanson 
promised  to  call  very  soon,  and  then  won  a  pleased  "  Do,  my  dear," 
from  Elder  Sanson  by  saying,  "  I  will  not  only  call  myself,  but  will 
bring  with  me  my  younger  sister." 

They  bowed  and  smiled,  and,  with  expressions  of  cordiality,  sepa 
rated.  The  picture  of  the  two  wives  to  the  one  elder,  with  hand 


THE    TWO    WIVES    OF    ELDER    SANSON. 


A   SOCIAL    TRIUMPH.  121 

clasped  in  hand,  and  between  their  smiling  faces  his  fat  one  in 
evident  approval  of  the  peace  in  his  household,  stamped  itself  on 
Christine's  memory.  Involuntarily  she  shuddered  at  the  awful  power 
of  Mormonism.  Leaning  on  her  uncle's  arm,  and  preceded  by  her 
husband,  she  had  nearly  reached  the  door,  when  her  sleeve  was  touched 
by  a  small  hand,  and  at  her  side,  in  gray  silk,  stood  a  pale,  timid- 
looking  woman. 

Early  in  the  evening  Christine  had  been  presented  to  the  lady, 
where  beside  four  gorgeously  dressed  creatures,  all  co-wives  of  Mr. 
Berry,  a  large  mill-owner,  by  force  of  contrast  this  quiet  figure  had 
attracted  her.  But,  perhaps  awed  by  the  husband  who  stood  more 
over  than  beside  her,  Mrs.  Berry  had  only  given  Christine  a  quick, 
nervous  bow,  and  then  had  looked  hurriedly  at  him. 

He  was  a  tall,  sallow-faced  man,  much  wrinkled,  and,  despite  his 
riches  (Malcolm  whispered,  "  He's  a  millionnaire  "),  having  about  him 
tokens  either  of  constitutional  ill-health  or  ill-humor.  Christine  was 
inclined  to  think  the  latter,  as  she  noticed  the  frown  which  was  his 
answer  to  his  wife's  timid  glance. 

His  frown  instantly  disappeared  as  he  smoothed  his  face  into  a 
smile,  and  spoke  to  the  niece  of  John  Smith,  who,  after  a  few  mo 
ments'  chat  with  the  Berry  family,  had  led  Christine  away.  Spending 
the  evening  with  Mrs.  Sanson,  she  had  seen  no  more  of  the  showy 
group  of  women,  among  whom  the  pale  one  looked  as  out  of  place 
as  a  frightened  mouse  in  a  cage  of  peacocks. 

Now,  if  possible,  paler  and  more  nervous,  Mrs.  Berry  held  fast  to 
Christine,  speaking  in  quick  half  whisper,  as  if  anxious  to  finish 
before  interrupted  by  her  sister-wives,  who,  headed  by  their  one  man, 
were  bearing  towards  her. 

"Mrs.  Smith,"  —  the  nervous  hand  on  Christine's  arm  trembled, 
—  "  your  voice  has  made  me  long  to  know  you.  Come  to  see  me,  at 
my  own  house.  I  live  out  near  the  mill,  —  only  come  to  town  when 


122  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

obliged  to  do  so.  Let  me  call  on  you,  and  take  you  back  to  spend 
the  day  with  me.  Let  me  come  Wednesday.  I  will  be  alone  then. 
Pray  let  me  come." 

She  was  so  very  anxious,  was  trembling  with  nervousness,  that 
Christine  felt  a  true  woman's  instinct  to  protect  this  woman,  by  some 
strange  fate  placed  amid  surroundings  so  unnatural.  Four  wives,  and 
yet  that  man  had  to  take  this  other  woman  !  How  horrible  was  polyg 
amy  !  Christine  thought  of  her  Malcolm,  and  was  blessed,  resting 
in  his  truth,  as,  taking  the  hand  of  this  less  favored  woman,  she  felt 
for  her  a  sister's  pity. 

"  You  will  not  refuse,"  Mrs.  Berry  said  eagerly. 

"  I  accept  with  pleasure,"  Christine  answered,  "  and  shall  expect 
you  Wednesday." 

"  Thanks,  thanks."  And  Mrs.  Berry  gave  Christine  a  shadowy 
smile.  It  was  chased  away,  however,  as  Mr.  Berry  came  near,  and 
said  in  an  undertone,  but  quite  loud  enough  for  Christine  to  hear,  — 

"  Mrs.  Alice  Berry,  you  astonish  me  by  your  strange  behavior  in 
society.  Could  you  not  have  waited  for  the  other  ladies  and  myself  ?  " 

Poor  little  Mrs.  Alice  made  no  answer,  but  timidly  fell  back,  glad 
to  hide  herself  behind  the  gorgeous  peacocks.  They  fluttered  around 
Christine,  spreading  their  gay  plumage,  and  talking  all  at  once,  except 
when  their  master  spoke.  Then  they  listened  in  admiring  silence, 
coming  in  at  the  close  with  a  chorus  of  ohs  and  ahs,  expressive  of 
the  wisdom  of  Mr.  Berry,  and  their  admiration  of  it.  The  owner 
of  these  gorgeous  birds  seemed  much  pleased  and  altogether  smoothed 
down  by  their  delicate  attentions.  For  a  moment,  however,  his  look 
wandered  to  the  nervous  gray  mouse,  that  also  belonged  to  him.  He 
frowned  heavily  as  he  saw  she  was  not  even  noticing  him,  or  any 
thing  he  said.  Her  eyes,  with  her  heart  in  them,  were  fixed  on 
Christine's  face. 

To  the  flattering  speeches  of  Mr.   Berry  and  his  peacocks,  Chris- 


A    SOCIAL    TRIUMPH.  123 

tine  bowed  acknowledgment.  That  their  expressed  desire  to  continue 
the  acquaintance  "  so  delightfully  begun  "  was  reciprocated  by  Mal 
colm,  not  Christine,  and  the  invitation  to  call  was  given  by  him  and 
his  uncle,  did  not  offend.  They  considered  that  this  country-bred 
girl  was  awed  by  their  grandeur  and  condescension.  Then,  too,  John 
Smith's  cordiality  was  something  worth  having.  As  for  his  niece, 
who,  by  the  by,  seemed  a  favorite  of  his,  she  was  well  enough  in  her 
way,  but  totally  without  style,  thought  these  wise  peacocks,  as,  with 
waving  of  plumage,  and  some  extra  flutterings  of  tail-feathers,  the 
stately  group  moved  away.  One  last  look  of  entreaty  the  little  mouse 
cast  on  Christine,  and  was  then  marched  off  in  custody  of  her  master  ; 
for  his  manner  of  offering  her  his  arm,  to  Christine's  eyes,  seemed 
more  like  the  closing  of  a  trap  than  an  act  of  courtesy. 

The  evening  had  been  a  pleasant  one,  Christine  thought,  leaning 
back  in  the  carriage,  and  looking  at  the  silent  figures  of  her  husband 
and  uncle.  Yet,  even  as  she  thought  it,  she  shivered  ;  for  that  timid 
little  mouse,  with  beseeching  looks  and  gesture,  kept  creeping  over 
her  heart,  making  it  echo  with  pity  for  her,  so  young  and  feeble,  in  the 
grasp  of  the  mighty  institutions  of  Utah  ! 


124 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

A  WOMAN'S  CONFIDENCE. 

'EDNESDAY  morning  came,  bright  and  clear.  Chris 
tine  had  told  Malcolm  of  Mrs.  Berry's  invitation. 
He  was  delighted. 

"  They  are  awfully  rich  people,"  he  said.  "  I 
wish  you'd  cultivate  them,  darling.  They  could  be 
made  very  useful  to  me  in  a  business  way."  And 
then,  kissing  his  wife,  he  had  not  noticed  the  pained 
look  on  her  face  as  he  hurried  off  to  "  business." 
Christine  would  not  acknowledge  it,  even  to  her  in 
most  thought ;  yet  she  was  often  pained  at  Malcolm's 
veneration  for  money.  In  many  ways  would  he  show 
it.  But  she  closed  her  eyes.  She  would  not  see  any  spots  on  the  sun 
of  her  life.  At  the  window,  watching  him  down  the  street,  she  smiled 
at  his  graceful  figure  standing  out  from  the  more  ordinary  ones.  How 
quickly  he  walked  !  Anxious  to  be  at  work  !  He  was  certainly  very 
attentive  to  business.  It  was  remarkable  in  one  naturally  so  gay,  and 
something  that  each  one  interested  in  him  should  appreciate,  entail 
ing,  as  it  did,  so  many  sacrifices.  Was  he  not  always  regretting  that 
he  no  longer  had  time  for  those  long  walks  or  talks  with  his  "  dar 
ling  "  ?  and  then  adding,  with  his  gay  laugh,  — 

"  But  it  is  all  for  your  sake,  love.     I  want  to  make  money,  so  I 
can  have  time  to  enjoy  your  sweet  company." 

Truly,  she  ought  to  be  grateful  for  such  unselfishness.     And  yet, 


A    WOMAN'S    CONFIDENCE. 


125 


what  made  the  tears  come  to  her  eyes,  and  her  heart  throb  with  pain  ? 
She  brushed  the  tears  away,  and  bravely  hushed  her  heart.  Malcolm 
was  true,  was  faithful ;  and,  if  she  were  lonely,  she  must  endure  it. 
Then  she  hummed  the  song  of  faithfulness  until  the  words  soothed 
her,  seeming  almost  as  if  spoken 
by  Malcolm.  Sitting  at  the 
window,  she  saw  pass 
the  little  hunchback 
who  sold  newspa 
pers.  He  looked  up, 
and  nodded.  This 
was  the  boy  Mal 
colm  had  once  writ 
ten  her  reminded 
him  of  Christie.  Be 
fore  her  husband's 
pressing  business  put 
an  end  to  his  pleas 
ure,  one  of  their 
walks  had  been  to 
the  paper-stand  of  the  crip 
ple.  She  had  said  to  Malcolm,  — 

"  Show  me  the  child  who  looks 
like  my  Christie."  And  they  had 
started  at  once.  When  she  saw  the 
narrow,  wizened  face  of  the  news 
dealer  ;  when,  with  a  leer  intended  to  be  funny,  he  had  looked  up  at 
her,  and,  in  the  manner  of  an  old  man,  had  said,  "  Mr.  Smith,  you's 
got  good  taste,  and  knows  a  pretty  face  from  an  ugly  one,"  —  she 
had  felt  a  shock  greater  than  a  blow.  He  like  Christie  !  And  there 
rose  before  her  the  pure  face  of  her  little  friend,  with  its  angel  eyes 


THE    NEWSBOY,  —  MALCOLM'S    PROTEGE. 


126  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

and  quivering  mouth,  as  he  had  looked  when,  lying  in  her  arms,  he 
had  said  "good-by." 

He  was  a  star  that  might  shine  in  the  crown  of  God.  And  this 
boy  !  With  eyes  screwed  up  in  most  knowing  fashion,  he  was  criti 
cally  regarding  Christine,  while  Malcolm,  at  her  side,  was  laughing 
heartily  at  his  compliment  and  his  old  manner.  Quickly  the  woman's 
soul  was  stirred  to  pity  as  she  looked  on  this  unfortunate  creation  of 
the  streets  ;  necessity,  and  his  surroundings,  educating  only  the  infe 
rior  parts  of  his  nature. 

Shrewdness,  cunning,  duplicity,  all  were  marked  on  the  little  old 
face,  and  heard  in  the  sharp,  thin  voice.  His  rudeness  encouraged  for 
wit,  vulgarity  laughed  at  as  satire.  Who  could  blame  the  child  ? 
Who  could  feel  less  than  commiseration  for  him  ?  Christine  spoke 
kindly  to  him,  in  gentle  words  rebuked  his  familiarity  ;  and  he  never 
more  offended.  Always  having  for  him  a  pleasant  smile,  and  patron 
izing  liberally  his  stand,  she  became  a  favorite  with  this  poor  little 
waif.  Discussing  her  with  his  crony,  —  a  young  knight  of  the  ragged 
order,  —  he  said,  — 

"  She's  a  rum  'un.  One  o'  yore  Sunday-school  sort,  yet  never 
preachin'.  Jest  a  sayin'  things  in  a  soft  way  as  makes  a  feller  wish 
he  didn't  lie,  an'  starts  him  a-thinkin'  'bout  hymn-tunes.  She  allus 
comes  here.  Don't  never  ferget  a  pore  chap.  Buys  my  papers  an' 
books,  an'  allus  gi'es  me  a  little  extra.  Don't  hev  ter  cheat  her.  Lor, 
no  !  She's  reg'lar  prime,  she  is  !  Axes  arter  my  healt'  as  ef  I  wos 
the  Pres'dent.  An'  don't  like  no  jokes.  She's  the  wife  o'  Male. 
Smith,  the  pretty  feller,  wid  blue  eyes.  They  used  ter  walk  out 
tegither.  But  now  she  plays  a  lone  hand.  And  he  !  "  A  knowing 
wink  and  a  whistle  concluded  the  sentence.  And  then,  a  customer 
coming  up,  the  boy  began  his  jokes  and  talk,  keeping  the  man  laugh 
ing  until  he  gained  an  extra  dime. 

"  Fer  my  wit  ?  "  asked  the  hunchback.     And  as  the  man  nodded, 


A    WOMAN'S    CONFIDENCE.  127 

and  went  on,  he  turned  to  his  admiring  friend,  and  said,  "  That's  the 
way  I  fetches  'em." 

The  passing  face  of  the  newsboy  had  taken  Christine's  thoughts 
away  from  Malcolm  back  to  her  dear  father,  Christie,  Patience,  and 
Martin.  Even  Rex  added  his  wise  head  to  the  loved  group.  Tender 
tears  were  in  her  eyes,  almost  blinding  her  to  the  sights  of  the  street, 
when  a  handsome  carriage  drove  up,  and,  the  footman  opening  the 
door,  there  stepped  down  a  little  lady,  —  Mrs.  Alice  Berry. 

Dressed  in  rich  black  silk,  with  an  eager  look  of  expectancy,  she 
did  not  seem  the  same  nervous,  frightened  creature  as  when  over 
shadowed  by  her  household  gods.  And  when  Christine,  smiling  a 
welcome,  opened  the  front  door,  her  answering  smile  made  the  pale 
face  youthful,  almost  pretty,  as  she  ran  quickly  up  the  steps,  clasping 
the  extended  hand  in  both  of  hers. 

Together  they  entered  the  house  and  the  pretty  little  parlor. 

"  Quick  !  Your  bonnet,"  said  Mrs.  Berry,  in  a  sweet,  girlish  voice. 
"  I'll  have  a  day's  holiday.  We'll  drive  home,  and,  taking  my  boy 
with  us,  go  to  the  mills,  if  you'd  like.  Or  over  the  country,  which, 
this  morning,  seems  full  of  gladness  for  me." 

She  had  a  quick,  nervous  manner  of  speaking,  which  her  sweet- 
toned  voice,  pleading  looks,  and  beseeching  little  gestures,  made  very 
charming.  She  seemed  so  eager  about  this  expected  pleasure,  in  such 
haste  to  possess  it,  as  if  momentarily  expecting  the  descent  of  the 
gorgeous  peacocks,  whose  strong  beaks  would  snatch  away  her  crumb 
of  enjoyment.  Christine  caught  the  infection,  and  did  not  feel  safe 
from  attacks  from  those  stately  birds,  until,  seated  in  the  carriage, 
with  Mrs.  Berry's  nervous  little  hands  holding  fast  to  hers,  they  rolled 
down  the  broad  streets  with  the  beautiful  shade-trees  on  each  side. 

It  was  a  lovely  autumn  day.  As  they  passed  under  the  great 
boughs,  soft  showers  of  leaves  fell  to  the  ground.  The  wind  wafted 
a  leaf  through  the  open  window.  Mrs.  Berry  caught  it. 


128  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  I  am  like  this  leaf,"  she  said  sadly,  as  she  held  it  in  her  open 
hand.  "  Born  and  bred  in  Utah,  nurtured  a  Mormon,  yet  is  it  killing 
me."  Her  smiles  had  vanished,  and  to  the  pale  face  had  returned 
that  nervous,  frightened  look.  "  See  ;  "  and  she  pointed  to  a  long  row 
of  buildings,  sitting  back  of  little  court-yards.  "  In  those  houses 
adjoining  each  other,  built  all  alike,  women  waited  day  after  day. 
Waited  for  the  coming  of  that  man  whose  slaves  they  were.  Waited 
to  catch  the  handkerchief  that  he  would  throw.  From  those  windows 
mothers  watched  jealously,  as  caprice  would  incline  him  to  favor 
another  mother's  offspring.  Taken  up,  or  cast  down,  as  suited  his 
passing  fancy.  Wives,  mothers,  but  no  sacredness  of  home,  no  pro 
tection  of  husband.  And  then,  in  later  years,  all  neglected  ;  and  from 
behind  their  curtains  they  looked  over  the  way  to  that  handsome 
house,  where,  palled  with  their  attractions,  his  fancy  built  a  gayer 
cage  for  his  latest  possession.  The  great  Brigham  Young !  The 
Apostle  of  Light!" 

Her  lip  curled  in  scorn  ;  and  then  more  hurriedly,  more  excitedly, 
she  went  on.  "  How  did  these  women  endure  this  daily,  hourly  mar 
tyrdom  of  all  that  was  best  in  them  ?  God  knows  !  Perhaps  as  I  do, 
with  suicide  staring  me  in  the  face,  looking  out  of  every  pool,  beck 
oning  me  from  every  height."  She  was  trembling  violently.  Her 
eyes  dilated  until  the  light  blue  was  lost  in  the  black  of  the  pupil. 
Her  hands,  loosed  from  Christine's,  seemed  putting  away  some  hor 
rible  temptation  that  allured,  even  as  she  repelled  it.  With  a  gasp  of 
suffocation,  she  tore  the  lace  at  her  throat,  and  called  out,  as  if  to 
actual  existence,  — 

"  Tempt  me  not.     I  have  a  child." 

What  could  Christine  do,  what  say  in  comfort  to  this  woman,  so 
small,  so  frail,  yet  torn  with  mighty  feeling  ? 

She  put  her  arms  around  the  slender  figure,  smoothed  the  soft 
hair  of  light  brown  ;  and  as,  at  this  tenderness,  the  slight  arms  clasped 


A    WOMAN'S    CONFIDENCE.  12$ 

her  throat,  while  sobs  burst  from  aching  heart,  her  own  tears,  in  holiest 
pity,  fell  upon  the  pale  face. 

"  Tears  for  me  ?  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  Then,  quickly  pressing  her 
trembling  lips  on  Christine's,  Mrs.  Berry  smiled  through  all  her  weep 
ing,  as  she  said,  — 

"  I  shall  never  feel  so  desperate  again.  1  have  a  child  and  a 
friend." 

After  a  little,  with  soft  touch  of  cool  fingers  on  hot  brow,  and 
gentle  words  to  divert  her  anxious  thoughts,  Christine  had  calmed  the 
agitation  of  this  sister-woman,  who,  like  bird  in  fiercest  storm,  had 
beaten  its  wings  against  her  heart,  and,  opening,  the  sanctuary  had 
taken  her  in.  Resting  on  that  tender  heart,  the  agitated  face  grew 
soft,  and  a  stillness  fell  upon  her  wild  despair.  Presently,  in  gentle 
voice,  she  said,  — 

"  If  I  might  die  now,  and,  with  my  baby  in  my  arms,  float  away 
to  that  mysterious  eternity,  which  puts  the  quietus  on  all  our  bitter 
woes !  If  you  knew  how  I  long  for  death  !  Is  it  not  curious,  frail  as 
I  am,  I  still  live  on  ?  "  And  she  held  out  a  hand,  from  which,  in  her 
excitement,  she  had  torn  the  glove.  It  was  delicate  and  white,  with 
every  blue  vein  standing  out  under  the  thin  skin.  She  looked  slight 
enough  for  a  wind  to  blow  away,  as  she  clasped  her  hands  in  her 
lap,  and,  gazing  out  the  window,  said  softly,  as  if  to  herself,  "  But  I 
could  not  die,  and  leave  my  child.  Do  you  believe  in  God  ?  "  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"  I  do."     In  reverent  voice  Christine's  answer  came. 

"  And  do  you  believe  in  polygamy  ?  " 

"No." 

"  No  ?  "  And  Mrs.  Berry  flashed  a  look  of  amaze  on  Christine. 
"  How,  then,  did  you,  a  woman,  marry  a  Mormon  ?  " 

"  All  Mormons  need  not  be  polygamists,"  Christine  answered 
calmly. 


130  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Need  not  be,  but  they  are."  Mrs.  Berry's  voice  grew  bitter  as 
she  went  on.  "  Will  a  man  restrain  self-indulgence  when  society  and 
religion  urge  him  to  it  ?  when  each  woman  that  he  takes  to  wife, 
binding  her  to  slavery  and  sin,  is  counted  a  jewel  in  his  heavenly 
crown  ?  You  wonder  to  hear  me  talk  thus,  —  I,  who  have  a  one-fifth 
interest  in  a  husband."  Again  scornful  curves  of  her  lips,  and  self- 
contempt  in  the  face,  as,  with  the  two  delicate  hands,  she  beat  her 
breast.  "  I  hate  myself  for  being  the  thing  I  am.  And  yet,"  —  turn 
ing  quickly  on  Christine,  and  putting  her  arms  around  her  neck,  she 
looked  earnestly  at  her,  —  "  and  yet  I  read  only  pity  in  those  eyes." 
Then,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  cried  to  herself.  Unable 
to  endure  the  sight  of  her  suffering,  and  touched  to  her  inmost  heart 
by  the  loneliness  of  the  drooping  figure,  Christine  clasped  her  to  her 
breast. 

"  Mrs.  Berry,  from  my  soul  I  pity  your  sorrow.  I  would  I  could 
comfort  you.  But  I  know  not  what  to  say,  except  that  our  afflictions, 
great  as  they  may  be  to  us,  are  sent  by  Him  who  made  us.  We  must 
endure  them,  and  lead  pure  lives." 

"  Pure  lives  !  That  is  what  tears  my  soul.  I  loathe  this  man  who 
calls  me  wife.  Yet,  were  I  his  true  and  only  wife,  I  would  endure  my 
life,  offering  up  its  sorrow  to  that  God  you  adore.  But  to  feel  each 
day  and  hour  I  am  but  a  thing  too  base  to  call  the  mother  of  my 
child,  to  feel  that  my  innocent  babe  is  doomed  to  be  what  will  make  of 
other  women  the  thing  I  am,  maddens  me." 

Again  the  wildest  excitement  flashed  from  her  eyes  :  again  the  pale 
face,  blanched  to  marble,  seemed  to  emit  rays  of  white-heat.  Her 
breath  came  so  quick  and  short,  that  Christine,  fearing  each  moment 
death  itself  would  follow  in  this  wild  mood,  besought  her  to  be 
calm. 

"  For  the  child  you  love,  control  yourself,"  she  implored. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Berry,  essaying  in  vain  to  speak.     But 


A    WOMAN'S    CONFIDENCE.  131 

from  that  dried  throat,  and  shaking  mouth,  only  broken  words  could 
come. 

"  I  will  —  I  will.  Let  me  — tell  you  — what  is  killing  —  me.  Per 
haps,  at  night  when  —  temptation  comes,  —  when  leaning  over  that  — 
sweet  face  —  I  pray  the  eyes — that  for  me  —  light — the  world  — 
may  never  open  —  again,  —  when  for  that  —  angel  child  —  my  soul's 
soul  —  I  see  no  safety  —  but  in  death,  —  perhaps  —  to  know  —  there 
is  one  —  one  friend  —  who  will  pray  —  for  a  soul  —  in  peril  —  may 
calm  this  —  fever  that  —  sets  my  brain  —  a-fire." 

Exhausted,  she  leaned  back  in  the  carriage.  Christine  was  praying 
for  her.  Only  God  could  still  the  tempest  that  tossed  this  soul.  With 
clasped  hands,  and  upraised  eyes,  she  pleaded  for  a  breaking  heart. 

"  Praying  for  me  ?  "  Mrs.  Berry  said  in  a  whisper.  And  then, 
"  Teach  me  to  pray." 

Without  answer,  Christine  uttered  the  words  her  heart  was  send 
ing  up. 

"  O  Lord,  who  made  us,  and  who  sees  our  woe,  give  us  strength 
to  bear  it  !  We  may  not  understand  the  need  of  agony.  We  may,  in 
our  sinfulness,  feel  it  unjustly  sent.  Forgive  us,  and  let  us  bear  our 
cross  as  thou  didst  thine,  with  pity  for  another's  grief,  greater  than 
our  own,  with  forgiveness  for  the  fellow-being  who  wrongs  us.  Save 
us  from  despair  and  sin.  Open  the  way,  that  though  in  grief,  yet  in 
purity,  we  may  walk.  Have  mercy  on  us,  and  give  us  strength  to  say, 
even  from  breaking  heart,  'Thy  will  be  done.''  Like  manna  from 
heaven  fell  the  soft  words  on  that  famished  spirit.  Mrs.  Berry,  calmer, 
took  Christine's  hand,  and  held  it  to  her  breast,  while  down  her  white 
cheeks  slow  tears  were  falling.  Then,  with  pleading  look  that  made 
the  words  entreaty,  — 

"  Are  you  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Yes."  And  Christine,  stooping,  kissed  her  brow.  How  hot  it 
was  !  It  almost  burned  her  lips. 


132  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  was  Mrs.  Berry's  answer  to  that  little  "yes." 

Silence  fell  upon  them  ;  and  Christine,  looking  from  the  window, 
saw  with  surprise  they  were  still  in  the  heart  of  the  city.  It  had 
seemed  hours  since  she  entered  the  carriage,  yet  but  moments  could 
have  elapsed  since  her  pitying  heart  opened  to  this  storm-driven  soul. 

"  Friend,"  Mrs.  Berry  was  saying  softly.     And  then  she  smiled. 

"  Do  you  know,"  —  she  was  speaking  now  in  her  natural  manner, 

—  "  I  am  twenty-one  years  old ;  and,  except  my  boy,  I  have  never  had 
a  friend  until  now  !     I  knew  you  would  be  my  friend  when  I  first  saw 
your  face.     I  will  tell  you  my  life,  and  then  ask  you  what  I  must  do. 
I  was  born  here  in  Utah.     My  mother  was  a  Mormon  convert.     God 
help  her,  and  forgive  her !  for  I  know  not  what  lies  they  told  a  free 
woman  to  induce  her  to  become  a  slave.     My  father  and  she  both  died 
with  some  epidemic  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  too  young  to  remember 
either.     I  was  brought  up  by  the  charity  of  the  Mormons,  in  an  insti 
tution  where,  from  morning  until  night,  the  glories,  beauty,  and  power 
of  the  Mormon  faith  are  chanted  into  innocent  ears.     The  revelation 
of  the  new  books  of  the  Bible,  the  visions  of  the  founder  of  the  faith, 
and,  above  all,  his  direct  mission  from  Deity,  became  actual  facts  to 
my  mind.     If,  at  fifteen,  I  had  been  called  on  to  die  for  the  faith,  I 
would  have  walked  to  the  scaffold  singing  hallelujahs.     Would  to  God 
that  had  been  my  fate  !     But  a  worse  one  was  waiting  for  me.     Monthly 
the  elders,  and  other  dignitaries  of  the  church,  would  visit  the  semi 
nary  ;  and,  after  their  departure,  incidents  in  their  lives,  examples  of 
courage,  nobleness,  generosity,  were  related  to  us,  until,  as  the  next 
visiting-day  would  come,  I  would  feel  a  positive  exaltation  in  breathing 
the  same  air  with  these  holy  men.     Brigham  Young,  that  earthly  god, 

—  for  so  he  was  made  to  us,  — would  sometimes  honor  us  with  a  visit. 
Considered    a  proficient  on    the    piano,  and  once    having   pleased  his 
fancy,  I  was  called  to  him.     After  a  few  words  he  held  out  his  hand. 
Touching  it  with  fingers  still  tingling  with  the  melodies  of  great  mas- 


A    WOMAN'S   CONFIDENCE. 


'33 


ters,  I  bent  over  that  hand,  and,  as  if  it  could  open  heaven's  gate, 
pressed  my  lips  to  it.  Bah  !  "  And  she  spat  as  though  some  disgust 
ing  object  had  found  its  way  to  her  mouth,  rubbing  it  fiercely  with  her 
handkerchief  to  cleanse  it  from  the  stain. 

"  Among  the  girls  in  the  seminary  I  had  no  friends.  Their  little 
schemes  and  plans  pained  me.  And  to  them  I  appeared  an  enthu 
siast,  too  dangerous  to  be  intrusted  with  their  secrets.  Oh,  could  I 


^  v    ii-r      "-  '  ;-5^  iTAl  i    \ 
^^ ;/y-'.-  •  .'    m */    ' 


"  1    BENT    OVER   THAT    HAND. 


but  then  have  died  !  "     She  clasped  her  hands,  gazing  in  sad  regret 
at  such  possibility,  then,  with  a  deep  sigh,  went  on,  — 

"  One  day  I  was  summoned  by  the  head  of  the  school,  and  told 
that  God,  pleased  with  me,  had  inspired  for  me  love  in  the  heart  of 
one  of  the  great  and  good  men  of  the  church.  I  could  have  fainted 
from  excess  of  humility.  To  me  it  was  being  allied  to  an  angel.  I 
did  not  even  ask  his  name,  but,  hurrying  to  my  room,  fell  on  my 
knees,  and  prayed  to  be  worthy  of  such  blessing.  The  day  came.  I 
was  taken  to  the  Endowment  House.  Even  that  disgusting  and  absurd 


134  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

formula  did  not  open  my  eyes.  Where  my  modesty  was  shocked,  I 
thought  it  my  sinful  nature,  and  called  to  mind  the  angels'  purity, 
whose  raiment  was  holiness.  But  when,  with  tears  of  humility,  I 
stood  trembling  before  a  tall  figure,  not  daring  to  raise  my  eyes ;  when, 
in  the  sacred  light  of  my  new  home,  I  fell  at  his  feet,  and,  not  yet 
looking  in  his  face,  said,  '  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  the  wife  of  a  saint/ 
a  cross  voice  replied,  '  Get  up.  Don't  be  a  fool.  I  didn't  want  an 
idiot  :  I've  four  already.  I  married  you  because  I  believed  you  had 
some  mind,  and  might  be  able  to  bear  me  a  son,  who  could  be  some 
body,  not  a  brainless  doll  like  the  other  brats.' 

"  If  the  earth  had  opened  before  me,  I  would  not  have  been  so 
terrified.  This  cross  voice,  this  peevish  face,  and,  above  all,  these 
unworthy  words,  shattered  my  faith  in  religion  and  man.  Was  this 
a  sample  of  the  saints  I  had  honored  ?  Was  this  one  of  the  men 
whose  sanctity,  held  up  as  model,  I  had  in  vain  desired  to  imitate  ? 
Great  God,  was  it  all  hypocrisy  ?  With  beating  brain,  and  bursting 
heart,  I  was  another  being.  That  man  had  murdered  my  true  self. 
I  looked  down  on  the  corpse  of  the  girl  who  had  entered  that  room, 
and  turned  to  fly.  But  no  escape.  A  little  girl  of  sixteen  in  the 
grasp  of  a  man !  "  She  covered  her  face,  and  moaned,  as  if  the  bare 
remembrance  was  intensest  pain. 

Then,  for  the  first  time  with  a  burning  flush  coloring  the  pallor  of 
her  skin,  she  went  on.  "  After  that  hour  of  horror,  torn  from  the 
belief  which  had  been  the  staff  of  my  life,  I  began  to  investigate.  I 
looked  on  the  deadly  sins  of  what  they  called  '  God's  Church.'  I  saw 
the  poor  oppressed  with  the  heavy  tithing  they  could  ill  afford  to  pay, 
and  knew  it  flowed  into  the  treasury  to  enrich  the  already  wealthy. 
I  saw  girls  forced  into  a  bondage  they  abhorred  ;  saw  the  actual  bar 
ter  and  sale  of  daughters  by  unnatural  parents  ;  saw  the  perpetual 
bickerings  and  heart-burnings  between  these  sister-wives.  Oh,  satire 
on  the  name  !  I  saw  the  mask  of  falsehood  held  over  all,  by  some  for 


A    WOMAN'S   CONFIDENCE.  135 

fear,  by  others  for  gain ;  saw  intelligence  crushed,  advance  opposed, 
love  preached,  malice  practised  ;  marriage  between  those  so  near  of 
kin,  that  Nature  herself  marked  such  unions  accursed.  And  my  heart 
filled  with  bitterness,  as  looking  on  this  beautiful  world,  the  grandeur 
of  these  mountains,  the  wonders  of  this  interior  sea,  I  asked,  Is  there 
no  better  teaching,  no  higher  law,  than  this  from  which  my  soul  recoils  ? 
Once  being  quite  alone,  and  trembling  at  my  own  temerity,  I  went  to 
the  office  of  the  Gentile  journal,  and,  with  that  sheet  hidden  in  my 
muff,  returned  to'  my  house,  where  in  quiet  I  could  read,  and  then 
hid  my  face,  ashamed  that  even  the  loneliness  of  my  chamber  should 
look  on  what  the  world  called  women  like  me.  From  that  day  I  read 
every  thing  I  could  buy,  stealing  like  a  thief  to  stores  forbidden  by 
the  Mormon  church,  hiding,  like  sins,  the  books  and  journals,  that 
educating  my  mind,  were  pressing  daggers  through  my  heart.  At 
last,  timid,  alone,  almost  without  money,  I  resolved  to  leave  Utah. 
Rich  as  he  is,  Mr.  Berry  keeps  the  purse-strings,  making  each  member 
of  his  family  dependent  on  him.  But,  poor  or  rich,  I  could  not  longer 
endure  the  degradation  of  my  life.  I  was  living  in  Salt-Lake  City 
with  the  four  other  creatures  called  Mr.  Berry's  wives.  They  are 
sisters.  Think  of  it,  —  sisters  !  And  their  constant  warfare  over  each 
article  given  or  promised  to  the  other  sickens  one's  soul.  The  chil 
dren,  poor  little  victims,  I  pitied  them  ;  and  they  returned  my  little 
kindnesses  with  affection.  Yet,  incited  by  their  mothers'  bickerings, 
what  fearful  words  and  quarrels  pass  between  them,  hardly  out  of 
swaddling-clothes  !  The  very  day  when,  breathless  with  the  excite 
ment  of  my  hidden  purpose,  I  left  the  Berry  mansion,  intending  never 
again  to  return  to  it,  I  heard  the  voices  of  those  sisters  raised  in  tones 
and  expressions  that  belong  only  to  the  lowest  order  of  creatures. 

"  I  hurried  along  the  streets,  overpowered  by  agitation.  At  the 
entrance  to  the  depot,  where  I  intended  to  buy  my  ticket,  I  paused 
for  an  instant  to  catch  my  breath,  and  calm  myself,  that  nothing  in 


136  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

my  manner  would  excite  suspicion.  With  veil  pulled  down,  I  had 
entered  the  door,  when  the  world  seemed  crumbling  at  my  feet.  I 
was  clutched  in  a  grasp  like  a  vise  ;  and  a  voice,  that  made  my  blood 
stagnate  in  my  veins,  said,  very  softly,  just  in  my  ear,  — 

"  '  Mrs.  Alice  Berry,  you  have  made  a  mistake.  Your  carriage  is 
waiting  for  you.' 

"  Desperate,  I  looked  up  and  down,  to  see  one  human  being  to 
whom  I  could  appeal ;  but,  except  a  group  whom  I  knew  to  be  Mor 
mons,  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight.  I  tried  to  scream,  but,  shaking 
with  nervousness,  could  not  utter  a  sound.  In  vain  I  struggled  to  free 
myself  from  that  cruel  hold.  I  was  powerless.  Almost  lifted  from 
my  feet,  he  put  me  in  the  carriage,  closed  the  door  with  a  bang,  and 
I  was  alone  with  the  man  who  had  ruined  my  youth.  He  held  my 
wrists  in  his  hand,  crushing  them  with  a  malice  that  made  him  hide 
ous.  Facing  me,  leaning  towards  me,  speaking  in  cold,  deadly  whis 
pers,  a  passer-by  might  have  thought  his  manner  affectionate.  Perhaps 
this  was  intended;  for,  as  if  acting  under  instruction,  the  driver  was 
taking  us  through  all  the  principal  streets.  But  the  words  Mr.  Berry 
uttered  are  burned  into  my  memory. 

"  '  Fool,  traitor,  idiot !  Did  you  suppose  your  outgoings  and  incom 
ings  were  unnoticed  ?  If  it  were  not  I  have  hopes  the  child  you  are 
bearing  will  be  a  boy,  I'd  drive  this  moment  to  the  boiling  spring,  and, 
holding  you  over  its  seething  water,  let  you  taste  the  hell  you  deserve. 
If  you  are  the  mother  of  a  girl,  I  shall  confine  you  for  life  in  the 
lunatic-asylum.  It  is  the  only  safe  place  for  such  as  you.  If  a  boy 
comes,  it  depends  only  on  yourself  whether  or  not  it  be  taken  from  you 
in  its  infancy.  From  this  moment  you  go  no  more  alone  on  the  streets 
of  Salt  Lake.  I  have  prepared  a  residence  for  you  near  the  mill.  We 
are  now  on  our  way  to  it.  When  you  visit  the  city,  you  ride,  and  the 
coachman  is  instructed  to  inform  me  of  each  place  you  enter.  Three 
miles  is  the  limit  of  your  country-drives.  Beware,  for  I  know  how  to 


A    WOMAN'S    CONFIDENCE.  137 

punish  disobedience !  Now,  Mrs.  Alice  Berry,  keep  my  command 
ments.  If  your  child  is  a  boy,  such  as  I  desire,  you  shall  not  lack 
for  comforts,  and  shall  remain  near  him  as  long  as  you  are  necessary 
to  him.' 

"  These  last  words,  spoken  in  a  lower  tone  than  the  others,  pressed 
yet  more  cruelly  on  my  soul.  They  have  created  a  terror  that  never 
leaves  me.  As  Mr.  Berry  ceased  speaking,  he  loosed  his  clasp ;  and, 
stiff  as  a  corpse,  I  fell  back  in  the  carriage.  When  we  reached  the 
house,  which  since  has  been  called  mine,  alarmed  at  my  condition,  not 
for  my  sake,  but  for  the  safety  of  the  son  he  desired,  he  sent  for 
physicians.  He  would  not  trust  to  the  laying-on-of-hands  when  a  pos 
sible  son  was  in  jeopardy.  Ill  and  threatened  as  I  was,  I  would  have 
made  an  appeal  to  the  doctor,  who  was  a  Gentile  ;  but,  at  each  visit, 
Mr.  Berry  sat  close  at  my  bedside.  I  heard  the  doctor  say  to  him 
one  day,  — 

"  '  The  lady  looks  extremely  young.  Did  you  tell  me  she  was  your 
wife  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  my  dearly  beloved  and  only  wife,'  answered  that  man  I 
loathed. 

"  '  Why,'  —  the  doctor  looked  surprised,  —  '  I  have  always  heard, 
Mr.  Berry,  that  you  are  a  polygamist  !  ' 

"  '  Doctor,'  —  and  lying,  basely  lying,  that  man's  voice  never  fal 
tered,  —  '  the  Mormons  are  much  slandered.  There  are  spiritual  rela 
tions,  which  are  recognized  in  a  spiritual  manner.  But  most  of  us 
have  but  one  wife.'  He  dared  say  this  before  me,  who  had  lived  in 
the  house  with  women  having  as  much  claim  as  I  to  the  title  of  wife, 
—  women  who  had  borne  to  him  children,  as  truly  his  as  that  baby  he 
was  expecting.  I  was  strangling  with  horror  at  his  depravity,  and 
started  up  in  bed,  determined  then  and  there  I  would  unmask  the 
hypocrite.  But  the  doctor,  who  had  thought  me  sleeping,  was  alarmed 
at  my  face.  He  came  to  my  bedside,  urging  quiet  ;  and  over  his 


138 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


shoulder,  without  making   sound,  Mr.  Berry's  lips  formed  one  word, 
*  Remember,  remember ! '     Could  I  forget  his  threat  ? 

"  A  week  after,  just  nine  months  from  the  day  I  left  the  seminary, 
I  was  a  mother.  My  boy,  my  beautiful  boy,  was  born.  He  would 
have  been  taken  from  me,  and  given 
to  nurse  :  but  thank  God,'  —  and  her 
eyes  were  raised  to  heaven,  —  '  thank 
God,  my  milk  was  plenty  and  rich  ; 
and  the  doctor  declaring  a  change 
might  injure  the  infant,  my  baby 
was  left  to  me.  I  saw 
no  more  of  the  doctor, 


REMEMBER ! 


but  I 

had  my  baby. 
Oh,  the  de- 
-  light  of  his  soft 
little  face  to  my 
breast !  His  pure  eyes  looking 
into  my  soul  chased  away  my 
bitter  thoughts.  I  loved  him,  until  earth,  sky, 
heaven,  were  centred  in  that  little  body  ;  and  he  loved  me.  Long 
before  he  could  speak,  his  eyes  would  follow  me  everywhere.  Strange 
to  say,  though  his  every  wish  is  gratified,  and  though  never  by  word 
or  look  have  I  done  aught  to  influence  him,  he  cannot  like  his  father. 
Never  will  he  go  near  him,  except  at  my  entreaty  ;  and,  from  the 
moment  he  could  walk,  I  have  seen  his  little  hand  rub  the  cheek  his 


A    WOMAN'S   CONFIDENCE.  139 

father  kissed.  His  father  sees  the  child  dislikes  him,  and  he  curses 
me  for  it.  '  He  has  sucked  traitor  from  your  breast,'  he  hissed  in  my 
ear,  when  first  he  noticed  the  baby  turned  from  him.  His  four  wives 
see  the  child  avoids  his  father,  and  incite  him  to  anger.  Mr.  Berry 
has  told  me,  that  on  David's  fifth  birthday  he  will  be  quite  old  enough, 
and  shall  be  sent  to  school,  —  to  a  Mormon  school,  where  his  mother 
may  see  him  only  at  the  will  of  Mr.  Berry,  where  his  soul  will  be 
tutored  as  mine  was,  to  break  his  heart,  and  ruin  his  life.  David  told 
his  father,  that,  if  taken  from  me,  he  would  never  eat  again.  It  may 
seem  unnatural ;  but  so  strong  is  the  character  of  my  boy,  that  once, 
enraged  at  him  for  the  repulsion  the  child  cannot  control,  his  father, 
forcing  me  into  a  carriage,  took  me  to  Salt  Lake,  and  kept  me  there 
two  days.  But  he  brought  me  back  himself ;  for  a  messenger  came  in 
haste  to  say  David  was  dying,  that  since  my  departure  he  had  not 
tasted  food.  That  was  five  months  ago.  Since  then,  I  am  not  allowed 
to  take  the  child  to  the  city ;  and  a  watch  is  kept  on  me  day  and  night, 
lest  I  should  attempt  to  carry  away  this  boy  who  is  to  inherit  his  father's 
name  and  wealth.  In  two  weeks  more  my  boy  will  be  five  years  old. 
Will  he  be  taken  from  me  ?  I  tremble  at  every  word  that  his  father 
speaks,  dreading  lest  it  be  the  sentence  that  will  drive  me  to  despair. 
I  tremble  at  every  look  of  the  four  wives,  lest  I  see  in  their  eyes  exul 
tation  for  what  is  coming  to  crush  me.  They  hate  me  because  my  child 
was  the  desired  boy,  and  I  fear  them  as  I  fear  every  one  who  wants  my 
child  torn  from  my  arms.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  Can  you  tell  me  ?  " 

With  piteous  gesture  she  looked  into  Christine's  face.  But  what 
answer  could  Christine  give  ?  What  hand  but  God's  could  lift  the 
blackness  that  shrouded  this  life  ?  Christine  could  only  say,  "  Friend, 
we  will  pray  God  to  show  us  the  way  ;  "  could  only  hold  the  nervous, 
fluttering  hands  in  her  own,  and,  in  earnest  voice,  utter  what  from  such 
a  woman  was  solemn  promise,  —  "I  know  not  how  to  help  you  ;  but,  if 
to  you  there  ever  comes  a  way,  tell  me,  and  I  will  do  it." 


140  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Just  then  the  carriage  drove  up  before  an  iron  gate  opening  into  a 
large,  carefully  tended  garden ;  and  inside  the  gate,  with  outstretched 
arms,  and  sweet  voice  calling  "  Mamma,  mamma  !  "  was  a  most  beau 
tiful  boy.  Strong,  well  formed,  tall  for  his  age,  with  handsome  head 
held  proudly  up,  and  bright  eyes  full  of  spirit  and  intelligence,  he  was 
a  child  to  waken  pride  in  a  parent.  Jumping  from  the  carriage,  not 
waiting  for  the  footman,  his  mother  ran  to  meet  him,  and  caught 
him  to  her  heart  as  he  sprang  towards  her.  From  the  tenderness  of 
their  greeting,  they  might  have  been  parted  months.  But  is  not  every 
moment  an  epoch  to  hearts  and  lives  like  these  ?  So  thought  Chris 
tine,  looking  in  wonder  at  the  woman's  face,  transformed  into  beauty 
by  the  rapture  of  mother-love. 


MOTHER   AND   SON. 


141 


CHAPTER    XX. 

MOTHER    AND    SON. 

|IDDING  the  coachman  return  at  sunset,  and  declaring 
they  would  spend  the  day  in  the  garden,  and  in  the 
white  dust  of  the  mill,  David,  holding  fast  his  mother's 
hand,  with  loving  wilfulness  guided  her  wishes.     He 
it  was  with  joyous  voice  proclaimed  that  lunch  should 
be  served  under  the  trees,  and  with  imperious  gesture, 
softened  by  natural  sweetness,  bade  the  servants  do  his 
mother's  will.     To  Christine  he  frankly  held  out  one 
little  hand,  saying,  as  he  looked  in  her  face,  "  I  like 
you,   because    mamma    does."      But    soon,    when    she 
smiled,  sang,  and  talked  to  please  him,  he  amended  his  first  greeting, 
telling  her  he  liked  her  for  herself  a  "  little  bit.      But  my  love,  you 
know,  is  all  mamma's.     I've  none  to  spare." 

The  table,  spread  under  a  beautiful  evergreen,  was  covered  with 
dainties.  First  seating  his  mother,  David  pulled  Christine  gently  to 
her  chair.  "  Mamma  first,  always  mamma  first,"  he  said  as  explana 
tion.  Then  he  drew  his  own  chair  close  to  his  mother's,  leaned  his 
head  on  her  breast,  kissing  her  pale  face  until  it  caught  some  of  his 
own  brightness.  He  laughed  as  he  said,  — 

"  See,  mamma,  I've  brought  roses  to  your  cheeks." 
His  joy  wakened  hers.       Her  burdens  cast  aside  for  this  hour  of 
pleasure,  she  bloomed  into  youthfulness.     After  lunch,  hand  in  hand 
with  her  boy,  she  ran  on  before  Christine,  showing  her  the  treasures 


142 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


of  the  garden.  Her  laughter  echoed  David's.  And  when,  as  sudden 
cloud  overcasts  the  sunshine,  memory  and  fear  would  whisper  in  her 
ear,  and  the  brightness  pale,  David's  "  Laugh,  mamma.  I  cannot 
laugh  alone,"  called  out  afresh  the  sweet  sounds  of  mirth. 

They  plucked  flowers  for  "  mamma's  dear  friend,"  showed  her  the 
fountain  on  the  front  lawn,  the  trees  that  David  loved.    And  then,  slip 
ping  his  other  hand  in  Christine's,  David,  run 
ning  between  the  two,  drew 
her   and   his 
mother  to 


DAVID   BETWEEN    CHRISTINE   AND    HIS    MOTHER. 


the  back  of 
the  house. 
Here     the 
grounds,    more 
extensive,  were  ar 
ranged     in    a    miniature 
park. 

"  Come  see  my  pretty 
well,"  cried  David.     "  It 
always  frightens  mamma,  yet  it  is  so  wise." 

In  the  centre  of  a  grass-covered  mound,  with  a  marble  curb  around 
it,  was  the  well,  with  water  cool  and  delicious. 

"  I  kneel,  for  mamma  trembles  if  I  stand  near  the  well.  But 
listen,  listen  ;  for  my  wise  well  will  answer  aloud  a  whispered 
word." 

Down  on  the  grass  he  bent  his  pretty  head  over,  until  his  mouth 
just  passed  the  stone  barrier. 


MOTHER   AND  SON.  143 

"  Who  do  you  love  ?  "  he  said  softly.  The  echo  from  the  well 
repeating,  he  shouted  out  in  glee,  "  My  mamma,  oh,  my  mamma  !  " 

Through  the  sweet  voice  thrilled  feeling  too  deep  for  baby  years ; 
and  as  the  loud  echo  took  up  the  words,  repeating  in  goblin  tones  the 
child's  musical  laughter,  a  strange  shiver  passed  over  Christine.  The 
distinct  words,  unnatural  laughter,  the  boy's  bright  face  and  graceful 
figure,  seemed  mingled  as  in  a  dream,  that  not  fearful,  yet  produces 
in  blood  and  nerves  the  sense  of  horror.  A  sound  from  his  mother, 
and  David's  laughter  ceased.  Running  to  her,  he  cried,  as  if  in  pain, 
"  Mamma,  mamma  !  "  he  threw  his  arms  around  her,  caught  at  her 
waist,  and  tried  to  pull  her  down  to  him. 

Deadly  pale,  all  her  brightness  gone,  she  seemed  dragging  herself 
from  some  influence  that  forced  her  forward,  where  her  eyes,  in  dilated 
horror,  were  fixed  upon  the  well.  Christine  started  towards  her ;  when 
with  a  shudder,  and  as  if  struggling  with  some  unseen  power,  Mrs. 
Berry  staggered  back  to  the  stone  bench,  to  which  she  clung  as  to 
anchor  of  safety. 

Christine  had  realized  the  danger,  had  felt  the  woman's  tempta 
tion,  and  now,  with  face  hardly  less  pale  than  her  own,  sank  on  her 
knees  beside  the  child. 

"David,"  —  she  spoke  from  trembling  lips,  —  "  as  you  love  your 
mother,  never  go  near  that  well,  and  never  let  your  mother  go.  It  is 
a  dangerous  place.  Ask  your  father  to  have  a  cover  made,  with  a 
pretty  little  boy  on  it,  who  can  tell  you  more  secrets  than  ever  the 
deep  and  terrible  well." 

"O  mamma!"  —  and  the  child  clapped  his  hands,  —  "  we'll  have 
a  little  boy  to  say  good-morning  to  us  when  the  sun  shines." 

Mrs.  Berry  tried  to  smile  in  answer  to  her  child,  but  could  not. 
When  he  saw  her  sad  look,  his  lips  quivered  ;  and,  clasping  him  in  her 
arms,  she  burst  into  tears.  Then  Christine  knew  for  this  hour  the 
tempter's  power  was  gone. 


144  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Still  holding  David,  great  boy  as  he  was,  Mrs.  Berry  walked  slowly 
through  the  trees  on  the  road  leading  to  the  mill.  Christine,  at  her 
side,  seemed  guardian  angel,  warding  off  the  temptations,  that,  strong 
and  terrible,  assailed  the  unhappy  woman. 

"  It  did  me  good  to  carry  him,"  Mrs.  Berry  said,  when,  near  the 
mill,  panting  with  fatigue,  she  loosed  her  hold,  and  let  David  slip  to 
the  ground.  And,  though  she  was  very  tired,  Christine  saw  the  truth 
of  her  words  in  the  softened  look  that  had  replaced  the  wildness  of 
her  face. 

The  mill  was  an  object  of  great  interest  to  Christine.  Her  grand 
father  was  the  largest  wheat-grower  in  his  section  of  the  country  ; 
and  the  improvement  in  mill-machinery  had  been  of  great  benefit  to 
all  Utah,  as  wheat  had  become  one  of  its  principal  products.  At  first 
the  machinery  was  so  imperfect,  that  Utah  flour  was  quoted  of  inferior 
grade.  But,  in  the  last  few  years,  great  progress  had  been  made. 
The  Territory  was  rapidly  advancing,  and  could  now  hold  its  own 
against  the  California  crop.  With  this  important  change  the  name 
of  Berry  was  associated,  and  Christine  found  every  surrounding  of 
interest.  The  mill  was  a  large  stone  building,  its  machinery  of  the 
finest,  and  its  capacity  the  most  extensive  in  Utah.  Safely  stored, 
and  in  great  quantities,  was  the  grain  in  whole  ;  while  in  a  large  depot, 
ready  for  transportation,  were  piled  hundreds  of  sacks  of  flour. 

The  superintendent  of  the  mill,  a  pleasant-looking  Norwegian,  was 
charmed  at  meeting  a  country-woman  in  Christine  ;  and,  with  the 
delight  experienced  by  even  the  voluntary  exile,  they  began  at  once 
to  speak  the  sonorous  tones  of  their  Northland.  David  was  so  highly 
delighted  with  the  strange  words,  that  his  merry  laugh  resounded 
above  the  whirr-rr  of  the  wheels.  The  mill  was  examined  :  and  then 
they  went  to  the  little  building,  and  primitive  machinery,  that,  by  Mr. 
Berry's  command,  were  kept  in  running  order  ;  being  the  pioneer  mill 
of  the  Mormon  community.  After  a  pleasant  hour,  Christine,  with  a 


MOTHER   AND  SON.  145 

hearty  hand-shake  from  her  compatriot,  said  farewell,  and,  with  David 
and  his  mother,  walked  back  to  the  house.  In  the  parlor  more  wealth 
than  taste  was  displayed  ;  the  only  beauty  of  the  room  being  a  large 
portrait  of  David,  —  lifelike,  as  at  this  moment  he  stood  beneath  it, 
the  proud  head,  and  bright  face  with  an  eager  look  of  expectancy,  as 
if  mamma  were  coming.  Upon  him  the  sunlight  fell  through  leafy 
boughs  ;  and,  for  background,  the  house  and  mill,  to  which  this  boy 
was  heir.  In  the  one  picture  were  united  the  child's  bright  beauty 
and  his  father's  pride. 

At  the  piano  Mrs.  Berry  rendered  symphony  after  symphony  in 
masterly  style,  surprising  in  so  fragile  a  creature  ;  while  David,  stand 
ing  near,  his  little  hand  resting  on  her  side,  watched  her  with  dreamy 
eyes,  whence  spoke  musician's  soul.  And  Christine,  looking  at  this 
mother  and  son,  their  wonderful  love  and  adverse  fate,  was  to  her  own 
heart  repeating  her  grandfather's  prayer,  stilling  her  questionings  of 
the  incomprehensible  with  his  constant  words,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
"The  day  was  done;"  and  they  were  standing  on  the  broad  porch, 
watching  the  sunset,  the  carriage  waiting  at  the  gate  ;  and  David, 
holding  Christine's  dress,  was  saying  in  his  manner,  half  coaxing,  half 
imperious,  "  Come  soon  again  to  see  my  dear  mamma,"  when  a  horse's 
hoofs  were  heard;  and  the  rider,  like  a  dark  cloud,  hid  sunshine  from 
the  face  of  mother  and  child. 

With  pleasant  greeting  to  Christine,  and  a  few  words  to  his  wife, 
Mr.  Berry  held  out  his  hand  to  David.  How  strange  to  see  the  little 
fellow,  his  face  grave  as  an  old  man's,  walk  slowly  to  his  father,  and, 
barely  touching  the  dry,  hard  fingers  with  his  soft  ones,  quickly  with 
draw  his  hand  !  Through  even  the  sallow  skin  of  Mr.  Berry  shone 
the  hot  flush  of  vexation.  He  frowned  heavily,  remembered  Chris 
tine,  and  forced  a  smile.  She  saw  the  effort,  and  was  about  to  make 
her  adieus,  when  a  beseeching  look  from  Mrs.  Berry  detained  her. 
Again  she  had  become  the  frightened  mouse  of  their  first  meeting, 


146  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

in  such  terror  of  this  man,  her  master,  and  so  friendless,  except  for 
the  little  child  holding  her  hand,  that  Christine  still  lingered.  And 
though  her  heart  was  longing  for  Malcolm,  and  fearing  her  absence 
might  delay  his  dinner,  never  did  she  so  exert  herself  to  please.  But, 
despite  her  efforts,  Mr.  Berry  looked  cross  and  absent-minded,  glan 
cing  ever  and  anon  at  David,  whose  little  face  was  'drawn  in  a  frown 
that  produced  the  first  resemblance  to  his  father's. 

Who  can  lighten  the  oppressive  atmosphere  of  family  disunion  ? 
Christine,  feeling  the  failure  of  her  purpose,  rose  to  go.  "  Good-by," 
she  said  to  Mrs.  Berry,  tenderly  holding  the  trembling  hand.  From 
her  lips,  and  with  her  look,  the  words  took  deeper  meaning.  "  Good- 
by  "  to  David,  resisting  her  desire  to  kiss  the  rosy  cheek  he  held  up 
to  her.  Then,  escorted  by  Mr.  Berry,  she  walked  to  the  carriage, 
dreading  the  moment,  when,  closing  the  door,  he  would  make  his  fare 
well  bow,  and,  in  his  present  mood,  return  to  wife  and  child. 

To  her  surprise,  with  a  strained  attempt  at  gallantry,  he  said, 
"  Mrs.  Smith,  may  I  see  you  safely  home  ?  "  And,  to  his  surprise,  she 
accepted.  Her  sweet  smile  sprang  from  the  thought,  that  for  an  hour, 
at  least,  Mrs.  Berry  would  have  quiet,  and  perhaps  in  an  hour  Mr. 
Berry  might  be  more  amiable. 

If  ever  woman  could  charm  away  anger,  Christine  was  she.  She 
spoke  of  the  mill,  its  improvement,  and  present  perfection  ;  and  Mr. 
Berry's  face  lightened.  She  praised  the  gardens,  the  beautiful  trees  ; 
and  he  smiled.  From  them  to  David,  whose  bright  intelligence,  and 
strong  character,  made  easy,  almost  sure,  high  predictions  for  his 
future.  And  then  she  won  his  heart,  or,  rather,  his  apology  for  that 
truer,  better  part  of  man.  His  face  lost  its  peevishness  as  he  talked 
of  his  plans  for  the  child's  future,  —  how  wealth  should  spread  open 
for  him  all  the  pleasures  and  information  of  travel  ;  how  its  might 
should  for  him  make  easy  the  delights  of  ambition  and  political  power. 
Filled  with  his  own  ambition,  he  had  forgotten  the  tender  years,  and 


MOTHER   AND   SON.  147 

thousand  possibilities,  that  might  arise  between  the  little  child  and  his 
manhood.  To  him,  David  was  the  embodiment  of  his  own  desires  ; 
and,  wrapped  in  his  future  plans,  he  thought  not  of  the  present.  Lis 
tening  to  him,  as  if  a  picture  had  been  unfolded  to  her  vision,  there 
came  before  Christine  that  fearful  well,  David  bending  over  it,  and  a 
few  feet  off,  clinging  to  the  stone  bench,  his  trembling  mother.  A 
shudder  passed  over  her. 

"  Mr.  Berry,"  she  said,  breaking  in  on  his  dreams,  "  I  think  you 
owe  it  to  David's  safety  to  have  the  well  covered." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  — his  tone  was  filled  with  a  species  of  pity  for 
her  lack  of  comprehension,  —  "  David  is  no  ordinary  child.  In  spite 
of  his  years,  he  has  intelligence  equal  to  most  men.  He  would  no 
more  lean  over  that  well  than  I  would.  It  is  a  remarkably  fine  well, 
sixty  feet  deep."  And  again  the  pride,  that,  for  him,  was  all  the 
pleasure  he  had  in  his  possessions. 

Sixty  feet  deep  !  What  a  fall  for  human  body  !  Christine  blanched 
at  the  bare  thought,  and  then  with  incident  of  accidents,  with  her 
own  fears,  tried  to  arouse  Mr.  Berry  to  proper  care  in  this  matter. 
"  A  fall  there  would  be  almost  certain  death,  and  an  accident  might 
happen  even  to  a  man." 

Mr.  Berry  moved  uneasily.  Death  associated  with  David  !  He 
looked  angrily  at  the  one  who  dared  suggest  it.  Then,  meeting  her 
earnest  eyes,  and  hearing  her  words,  as,  unnoticing  his  look,  she  was 
quietly  talking,  he  ended  by  agreeing  with  her.  "  An  ornamental 
cover,  with  an  iron  railing  on  the  marble  curb,  would  be  an  improve 
ment  to  the  grounds,  and  protect  from  accident  men  as  well  as  chil 
dren." 

"  I  shall  give  the  order  as  I  ride  back  home,"  Mr.  Berry  said  ; 
and,  handing  out  Christine,  he  re-entered  the  carriage. 

She  looked  up  at  the  windows  with  an  expectant  smile.  Malcolm 
would  be  watching  for  her  !  No  !  Only  her  little  maid,  bowing  and 


148  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

smiling  to  her  mistress  as  she  ran  down  to  see  if  there  was  any  thing 
to  be  carried  in  the  house. 

Mr.  Berry  drove  off  :  and  Christine,  in  her  quiet  home,  waited  for 
Malcolm  until  the  clock  struck  seven  ;  then,  taking  a  cup  of  tea,  she 
sent  away  the  untasted  dinner,  listening  in  loneliness  to  each  passing 
footstep. 

After  an  hour,  John  Smith  called.  He  was  full  of  interest  in  her 
day,  in  her  description  of  the  mill,  and  agreed  with  her  as  to  the 
intelligence  and  charms  of  Mrs.  Berry.  So  fresh  and  pleasant  seemed 
every  detail  to  him,  even  the  flowers  that  David  gathered,  that  Chris 
tine  did  not  imagine  her  uncle  knew  the  gardens  far  better  than  she, 
and  had  always  found  Mrs.  Alice  Berry  an  extremely  quiet,  uncom 
fortable  sort  of  a  person.  It  was  all  changed  now  for  him  ;  and,  had 
Christine  been  capable  of  betraying  her  friend's  confidence  of  her 
married  life,  John  Smith  would  doubtless  have  pronounced  Mr.  Berry 
a  brute.  Yet  Mr.  Berry  and  he  had  been  for  years  more  or  less  asso 
ciated  in  political  matters,  a  connection  that  would  likely  endure. 
Only  now,  looking  at  the  dark  eyes  and  graceful  figure  of  the  woman 
before  him,  feeling  for  her  what  was  a  resurrection  into  new  life,  other 
matters,  other  persons,  were  of  trivial  importance. 

It  was  late  when  Malcolm  reached  home.  He  greeted  his  wife 
affectionately,  was  delighted  to  find  his  uncle  with  her,  said  he  was 
"  tired  out,"  and  threw  himself  upon  the  lounge,  where,  with  flushed 
face,  and  eyes  unusually  bright,  he  seemed  absorbed  in  exciting 
thought. 

"  Calculations,"  he  answered,  as  Christine,  drawing  her  chair  near, 
slipped  her  fingers  in  the  hands  clasped  above  his  head,  and,  in  voice 
tender  and  arch,  asked,  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

After  a  moment  he  rose,  and  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  mantel-piece, 
shook  off  "business  anxieties"  with  a  laugh,  and  began  talking  in 
his  gay,  careless  manner,  falling  ever  and  anon  into  reverie,  and  always 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  149 

with  that  excited  look  which  so  became  him,  and  the  smile  that  made 
his  mouth  more  beautiful. 

Somehow,  —  she  could  not  have  explained  it,  for  no  shade  of  doubt 
was  on  her  soul,  —  the  delight  that  his  presence  had  brought  her  was 
gone  ;  and  over  her,  like  cold  mist,  came  a  nameless  sadness. 

John  Smith,  saying  good-night,  took  in  the  group  of  husband  and 
wife,  —  his  face,  eyes,  figure,  all  full  of  something  that  had  apparently 


"  '  CALCULATIONS,'    HE   ANSWERED." 

delighted  him  ;  and  she,  pale,  still,  with  bended  head,  down-cast  eyes, 
and  the  two  slender  hands  clasped  nervously  together. 

" Good-night."  And,  gently  laying  his  hand  on  hers  in  the  tender- 
est  caress  he  had  ever  permitted  himself,  he  forced  her  to  look  at  him. 
The  dark  eyes  were  full  of  tears  :  the  tender  mouth  had  a  droop  in 
its  soft  curves  that  made  him  shiver.  Yet  she  smiled  for  answer. 
Just  then  she  could  not  speak  without  losing  self-control  ;  and  John 
Smith,  turning  quickly,  laid  his  other  hand  affectionately  on  Malcolm's 
shoulder  as  adieu,  and  left  the  room.  No  one  had  noticed  the  hand 
that  had  touched  Christine's  was  hanging  at  his  side  tightly  clinched  ; 


150  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

and,  though  first  at  the  hall-door,  he  waited  for  Malcolm  to  open  it. 
For  a  few  moments  they  stood  in  the  night-air  talking  pleasantly. 
Promising,  in  reply  to  Malcolm's  urging,  that  he  would  see  as  much  as 
possible  of  Christine,  his  uncle  walked  slowly  down  the  steps.  As 
the  door  closed,  leaving  him  alone  in  the  street,  he  opened  the  clinched 
hand,  kissed  it  passionately  ;  then,  as  if  he  were  violently  throwing 
away  something  it  held,  he  said,  in  intense  whispers,  "  Fool,  fool  !  " 
stopped  for  a  moment,  raised  his  hat  as  though  its  weight  oppressed, 
and,  an  instant  afterwards,  calm,  cold,  passed  on  his  way,  —  a  man 
feared  by  some,  admired  by  many,  known  by  none. 


A    VISIT  AND  ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A    VISIT    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 

FEW  days  after  her  first  visit  to  Mrs.  Berry,  Christine 
received  a  call  from  the  two  Mrs.  Sansons.     The  elder 
lady  leaned  on  the  arm  of  the  younger,  as  mother  might 
on  daughter.     With  flattering  attention  she  listened  to 
every  commonplace,  ill-spoken  sentence  of  this  new 
sister.     Looking    up   quickly,    Mrs.    Sanson,    senior, 
caught  the  expression  of   Christine's  face.     It  was 
wonder,  —  wonder  that  human  being  could  thus  com 
pletely  accept  the  position  forced  upon  her  ;  wonder  at 
the  harmony  existing  between  women  in  such  strange 
relationship,  all  the  more  remarkable  for  the  natural 
force  and  intelligence  of  the  elder  woman.     With  a  smile,  perfect  in 
its  calm,  Mrs.  Sanson  answered  her  thought  :  — 

"  Does  it  seem  so  strange  to  you,  my  dear,  that  I  should  be  con 
tent,  after  so  many  years  of  married  life,  to  take  the  second  place  in 
my  husband's  affection  ?  " 

She  spoke  very  quietly,  the  strongest  expression  of  her  face  being 
amusement  at  Christine's  embarrassment.  Her  face  flushed  to  scarlet, 
Christine  knew  not  what  to  reply.  She  could  not  speak  untruth,  nor 
could  she  offend  good  breeding. 

Mrs.  Sanson  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  with  another  smile  at 
the  blushing,  silent  Mrs.  Smith,  went  on  in  serious  voice,  — 

"  For  us,  good  Mormons,  true  children  of  the  true  faith,  polygamy 


152  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

is  the  divine  right  of  man.  If  our  husbands  will  it,  we  must  submit, 
—  aye,  joyfully  welcome  our  new  sister  to  our  hearts." 

Saying  these  words,  this  elderly  lady  took  the  hand  of  the  second 
wife,  held  it  for  a  moment,  and,  pressing  it  gently,  released  it,  as  turn 
ing  on  Christine  eyes  more  fierce  than  soft,  and  with  a  twitching  of 
her  lips  that  seemed  out  of  keeping  with  her  calm  voice,  she  said,  — 

"  I  hope,  my  dear,  when  your  time  comes,  you  will  be  blessed  with 
like  strength." 

Before  Christine  could  reconcile  those  fierce  eyes  and  nervous 
mouth  with  the  gently  spoken  words,  before  the  flush  had  faded  which 
indignantly  rose  to  her  cheek  at  the  bare  suggestion  of  Malcolm's  ever 
acting  so  cruelly,  Mrs.  Sanson  had  lightly  changed  the  subject,  and 
now,  with  just  enough  sarcasm  to  be  spicy,  was  discussing  their 
mutual  acquaintances. 

She  did  not  speak  another  serious  word  until,  by  some  accident, 
Mr.  Berry's  name  was  mentioned. 

"  A  most  admirable  man,  full  of  ambition  and  capability.  He  is 
one  of  the  shining  lights  of  our  church.  His  first  four  wives  are 
excellent  women,  living  in  that  beautiful  harmony  which  is  one  of  the 
effects  of  our  religion.  But  the  last  wife  !  "  —  And  here,  with  a  lit 
tle  shrug,  and  a  side-glance  at  Mrs.  Sanson  No.  2,  who  was  absorbed 
in  looking  at  photographs,  Mrs.  Sanson,  senior,  grew  confidential. 
"  The  last  Mrs.  Berry  is  certainly  not  quite  right.  Insane,  some  call 
her.  Mr.  Berry's  most  intimate  friends  hav'e  advised  him  to  have  her 
placed  in  some  retreat.  She  has  been  a  great  disappointment  to 
all  who  knew  her  as  a  child.  She  was  educated  by  the  charity  of 
our  church,  given  every  advantage  by  its  munificence,  and  had,  up  to 
her  marriage,  shown  proofs  of  unusual  ability.  Her  music  was  re 
markable  ;  and  some  verses  of  hers  have  become  standard  hymns,  so 
filled  are  they  with  zeal  and  fervor.  Yet  now  she  actually  lives  out 
side  the  pale  of  our  holy  faith,  and  once,  when  spoken  to  of  her 


A    VISIT  AND  ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  153 

religion,  dared  to  say  she  was  no  Mormon  in  belief.  It  is  strange  God 
permits  such  ingratitude.  Ah,  indeed  is  Mr.  Berry  to  be  pitied  !  The 
only  explanation  is,  the  total  unsettling  of  her  mind,  —  the  loss  of  that 
very  intelligence  which  made  Mr.  Berry  stoop  to  marry  her." 

During  this  long  speech,  which  Mrs.  Sanson's  voice  made  harder 
to  bear,  Christine  had  been  struggling  to  control  her  indignation  at 
this  misconception  of  her  new  friend.  Full  of  the  true  character  of 
this  woman  so  misunderstood,  yet  she  dared  not  express  her  thoughts, 
lest  she  should  increase  the  dangers  surrounding  Mrs.  Berry. 

Controlling  her  excitement,  and  speaking  quietly,  Christine  replied 
she  had  lately  spent  several  hours  with  Mrs.  Berry  at  her  own  house, 
and  that  never  had  she  met  a  more  interesting  or  gifted  woman.  Not 
allowing  herself  to  be  daunted  by  the  raised  brows  and  sarcastic  smile 
of  Mrs.  Sanson,  she  then  spoke  of  the  Berry  mill,  and  of  her  own 
interest  in  it  because  of  her  grandfather's  occupation.  Thus  turning 
from  personal  to  general  matters,  she  hoped  she  had  not  offended  this 
elderly  lady,  nor  made  her  the  enemy  of  that  unfortunate  young 
mother  who  seemed  to  have  drawn  upon  herself  the  dislike  of  the 
Mormon  community.  An  audible  yawn  from  the  young  wife  made 
Mrs.  Sanson  laughingly  remark,  — 

"  Youth's  beauty  and  innocence  must  excuse  its  forgetfulness  of 
social  law."  And  then  she  shook  her  fingers  playfully  at  her  sister's 
too  candid  rejoinder,  — 

"  Well,  I'm  tired." 

"  Poor  child  !  "  as  if  speaking  to  her  own  little  one.  And  then  to 
Christine,  with  the  grace  of  manner  consequent  on  long  experience, 
she  said,  as  she  took  her  leave,  — 

"  You  young  ladies  must  forgive  an  old  one,  if,  in  her  own  pleas 
ure,  she  forgets  it  may  not  be  mutual." 

Still  leaning  on  her  sister's  arm,  she  entered  her  carriage.  Chris 
tine,  thinking  over  the  visit,  felt  it  had  not  been  a  success  ;  felt  that, 


154  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

despite  her  desire,  and  Mrs.  Sanson's  compliments,  she  had  not  pleased 
this  esteemed  friend  of  Malcolm's  uncle.  What  a  strange  hard  glitter 
in  her  eyes  !  Had  her  defence  of  Mrs.  Berry  incited  anger  in  this 
woman  of  influence  among  the  Mormons  ?  The  thought  made  Chris 
tine  sick  and  nervous,  made  her  long  all  the  more  for  Malcolm.  Yet 
—  and  with  this  thought  came  sadness  —  she  knew  he  would  be  vexed 
with  her  for  her  failure  in  making  friends.  Presently  his  step  and 
laughing  voice  mingled  with  John  Smith's  quiet  one  ;  and,  telling 
Maggie  to  lay  another  place  at  table,  she  opened  the  parlor-door  for 
husband  and  uncle. 

"  How  pretty  you  look,  love  !  "  Malcolm  said. 

John  Smith  said  nothing,  only  bowed  and  smiled  as  he  took  a 
chair,  and  looked  at  her.  Then  Malcolm  continued,  — 

"  I  saw  the  Sanson  carriage  drive  away.  Did  you  have  a  pleasant 
call  ? "  And  as  Christine,  with  beating  heart,  grieving  to  disappoint 
him,  described  the  visit,  Malcolm's  face  lost  its  brightness.  He 
frowned,  and  bit  his  lip,  as,  in  vexed  manner,  he  said,  — 

"  My  dear  girl,  if  you  intend  to  be  disagreeable  to  every  one  who 
differs  with  you  on  religious  belief,  you'll  be  unbearable.  For  God's 
sake,  Christine,  don't  become  that  abomination  to  God  and  man,  —  a 
bigot  !  "  Then  he  turned  impatiently  away,  and  began  to  whistle,  as  if 
to  keep  himself  from  saying  more.  John  Smith,  watching  his  niece, 
saw  her  lips  part,  and  a  breath  or  so  come  quick,  as  if  she  were  in 
pain,  or  had  been  running.  Yet  there  was  no  sound,  no  quiver  of  the 
face  that  had  become  very  pale  ;  and  she  stood  just  as  when  speaking, 
with  her  hands  held  close  together.  A  curious  look  came  over  him, 
and  his  face  grew  paler  than  hers.  He  took  up  the  battle  for  her, 
laughingly,  wittily,  and,  in  a  few  moments,  had  Malcolm  in  a  good- 
humor. 

Christine  heard  their  voices  as  in  a  dream.  At  Malcolm's  words 
she  had  turned  deadly  sick.  He  had  never  before  spoken  irritably  to 


A    VISIT  AND  ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  155 

her.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  heard  an  unkind  word.  She  felt 
no  anger  at  his  injustice,  no  desire  to  defend  herself  :  only  the  room 
grew  dark,  and  her  head  dizzy.  Presently  some  one  took  her  hand. 
She  felt  herself  seated  in  an  easy-chair,  tasted  some  cool  water,  and, 
feeling  better,  saw  John  Smith  at  her  side,  and  Malcolm  standing  near, 
looking  as  if  nothing  had  ever  marred  the  beauty  of  his  face. 

He  was  telling  a  funny  anecdote  to  his  uncle,  who  smiled  quietly 
in  reply ;  but  his  eyes  were  on  Christine.  Meeting  her  glance,  he 
held  the  glass  towards  her.  "  Another  sip  ?  "  And,  when  she  shook 
her  head,  he  put  it  on  a  table  near,  then  began  talking  with  Malcolm 
of  things  generally  interesting,  until  Christine  unconsciously  listened, 
was  soothed ;  when  Maggie,  all  smiles,  announced,  — 

"  Dinner,  ma'am." 

"  I'll  yield  her  to  you,  uncle,"  said  Malcolm,  putting  her  hand  in 
his  uncle's  arm,  to  lead  her  to  dinner.  "  I  can  afford  to  be  generous 
with  what  is  so  truly  mine,  — ah,  Christine  !  "  He  had  changed  to  gay 
humor,  was  so  sweetly  attentive  to  her,  so  pleased  that  his  uncle  had 
come  to  cheer  her  during  the  evening  hours  he  had  to  be  away. 

"  Only  a  little  while  to-night,  darling,"  he  said  to  her.  "  I  shall 
hurry  back."  And  then  she  thought  he  looked  saddened  that  she  did 
not  seem  happy.  Christine  blamed  herself,  struggled  with  herself, 
yet  could  not  seem  what  she  was  not. 

She  took  her  share  in  the  conversation,  making  the  little  dinner 
pleasanter  by  the  presence  of  gracious  womanhood,  but  could  not 
lighten  the  weight  on  her  heart.  She  did  not  complain  at  her  hus 
band's  going,  did  not  urge  his  remaining,  only  begged  him  not  to  over 
tax  his  strength,  and  wear  away  his  life  with  work. 

"  Money  is  not  all,  Malcolm,"  she  said  half  sadly. 

"  No  ;  but  it  is  a  great  deal,  Miss  Paleface."  And  he  gently  pinched 
her  cheek,  to  bring  back  the  roses  that  had  bloomed  there  before 
dinner.  She  took  his  hand. 


156  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Malcolm,  I  don't  care  to  be  rich."  She  spoke  so  low  and  gently, 
it  was  almost  an  undertone.  But  John  Smith  heard  it ;  and  again  that 
curious  look  came  over  his  face,  as  with  gay  laugh,  and  a  merry,  "I 
do,  and  for  your  sake,"  from  Malcolm,  her  husband  kissed  her  cheek. 
Then  lighting  his  cigar,  and  bidding  his  uncle  "  take  good  care  of 
Christine,"  he  hurried  away.  As  he  closed  the  front-door,  his  voice, 
humming  an  opera  air,  came  into  the  quiet  room,  where  his  wife,  with 
clasped  hands,  leaned  forward,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  fire  that  Maggie 
had  lighted  in  the  pretty  little  parlor.  Its  red  light  fell  on  her,  where, 
as  the  darkness  deepened,  she  seemed  to  absorb  all  the  brightness  of 
the  shadowy  room.  The  sadness  of  her  face  had  changed  to  peaceful- 
ness.  She  was  thinking  of  her  grandfather,  of  his  prayers,  lessons, 
life,  and  his  teaching  of  submission,  and  endurance  of  life's  trials. 
She  was  thinking  how,  trivial,  unworthy  as  they  were,  even  the  heart 
aches,  that  she  feared  proceeded  from  selfishness,  would  be  accepted 
if  she  but  offered  them  through  Christ.  She  was  thinking  of  Mrs. 
Berry,  her  past  and  her  future  ;  and,  in  praying  for  this  tender  soul 
in  peril,  her  own  sadness  was  lost.  She  had  forgotten  her  uncle,  so 
swift  and  strong  had  been  the  current  of  thought,  bearing  her  away 
from  her  present.  But  he,  in  the  shadow,  watching  her,  noting  each 
change  in  her  expressive  face,  was  thinking  only  of  her.  When  the 
sweet  mouth  lost  its  drooping,  and  the  dark  eyes  filled  with  peace,  he 
was  so  truly  thinking  only  of  her,  that  he  lost  himself,  and  sighed. 
That  sigh  brought  her  back.  She  had  forgotten  this  kind  uncle,  who 
was  always  so  good  to  her,  and  every  one.  Ah,  how  sad  he  must  be 
to  sigh  like  that  !  She  had  never  heard  him  sigh  before. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  murmured.  There  was  the  sound  of  tears  in 
her  voice  ;  and  the  hand  she  held  towards  him  trembled  a  little  as  he 
clasped  it  a  moment,  and  then  let  it  go.  "  Forgive  me  that  I  had 
forgotten  you,  and  you  never  forget  any  kindness." 

Most  unjust  praise,  most  unmerited  contrition  !     Yet  both  beauti- 


A    VISIT  AND  ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  157 

ful  in  their  sincerity.  He  did  not  answer.  By  the  fire's  glow  he  had 
seen  the  glistening  eyes.  These,  and  her  voice,  her  touch,  were  too 
much  for  him.  He  clinched  his  teeth,  that  words  might  not  escape. 
He  loosed  her  hand,  that  he  might  not  crush  it.  Of  all  men,  he  knew 
he  had  not  deserved  that  she  should  feel  she  had  injured  him.  Sitting 
there  in  silence,  watching  her,  had  he  not  wished  the  flames  might 
leap  out,  and  consume  them  both  ;  or  even  that  thus  alone,  they  two 
might  stay  forever,  —  she  in  the  firelight,  he  watching  her,  until  both 
were  dead  ?  As  no  answer  came,  the  sweet,  trembling  voice  went 
on  :  — 

"  You  are  troubled,  unhappy.  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  You  have 
been  so  true  an  uncle  to  me,  that  I  "  —  And  then  she  paused,  tried 
to  say  something,  and  could  not.  The  three  wives  of  this  man  came 
to  her  thoughts.  If  in  trouble,  theirs  the  happiness  to  comfort  him. 
To  him  who  had  three  comforters,  she  could  be  of  no  help.  He 
waited  a  few  moments,  longing,  yet  fearing,  to  hear  more,  —  fearing 
lest  this  gentle  sympathy  would  madden  him  into  some  maniac's  act  ; 
longing  for  another  word,  as  the  famished  for  cool  water.  Then,  seem 
ing  to  understand  the  cause  of  her  silence,  he  frowned  heavily,  and 
a  moment  after,  in  his  quiet  voice,  said,  — 

"  Let  us  have  some  music.  Sing  me  the  favorites  of  your  grand 
father." 

As,  in  ready  willingness  to  please  him,  she  lit  the  lights,  and  went 
to  the  piano,  he  spoke  of  the  dear  father  with  such  genuine  admira 
tion  of  his  grand  simplicity  and  true  nature,  that  her  sensitive  face 
grew  tenderer,  and  the  voice  singing  the  old  man's  ballads  came  from 
a  heart  full  of  love. 


158 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

DAVID'S    BIRTHDAY. 

EVERAL  times  the  Berry  carriage,  with  a  note  from 
Mrs.  Alice,  called  for  Christine,  bearing  her  away  to 
the  beautiful  garden,  at  whose  gate,  with  her  boy  at 
her  side,  the  pale  mother  waited  to  welcome  her. 

"  Come  as  often  as  you  can,"  she  had  asked 
Christine.  And  she  had  replied,  "  I  will  come  when 
ever  you  send  for  me.  But  do  not  come  for  me  :  stay 
with  your  boy."  So  the  visits  were  frequent.  To 
Christine,  helping  another  was  helping  to  bear  the 
ever-increasing  loneliness  of  her  life.  She  felt  she 
could  not  go  too  often  where  she  was  so  much  needed ; 
for,  as  David's  birthday  approached,  the  anxious  mother  grew  more 
miserably  anxious.  The  possibilities  of  that  birthday  !  Would  Mr. 
Berry  keep  to  his  expressed  resolve  ?  Would  he  separate  those  two 
lives  so  bound  in  each  other  ?  What  would  be  the  result  ?  Christine 
would  start  out  of  sleep  in  terror,  from  dreams  these  fears  had  created. 
Despite  her  self-control,  despite  the  tower  of  strength  she  was  to 
Mrs.  Berry,  Christine  had  caught  the  infection  of  her  fears.  Kept 
within  her  own  heart,  they  grew  and  strengthened,  until  she  would 
tremble  at  the  slightest  sound,  — a  nervousness  that,  unnoticed  by  her 
husband,  was  not  unmarked  by  John  Smith,  to  whom  the  slightest  turn 
of  her  head  was  of  moment.  One  day,  when  a  quickly  opening  door 
made  her  turn  pale,  and  utter  a  faint  "Oh!"  he  asked,  "What  dis- 


DAVID'S  BIRTHDAY.  159 

turbs  you,  my  child  ?  "  And  with  a  flush,  while  her  frank  eyes  looked 
into  his,  she  answered,  "I  cannot  tell  you."  Small  as  the  incident 
was,  her  sweet  truthfulness  only  added  to  her  perfections,  only  made 
her  dearer. 

The  glory  of  autumn's  golden  haze,  its  soft  blue  skies,  and  gentle 
breeze,  that  make  this  season  of  decay  most  beautiful,  welcomed 
David's  birthday.  Christine  had  been  sent  for  early  in  the  morning. 
She  was  still  watching  down  the  street  where  Malcolm  had  disap 
peared,  when  the  carriage  drove  up ;  and  with  kind  words  to  Maggie, 
whose  delight  it  was  to  watch  her  mistress's  departure  and  arrival,  she 
rode  quickly  away  to  her  friends.  The  gardens  had  never  looked  more 
lovely.  And  David,  full  of  life  and  joyousness,  wandered  among  the 
flowers,  making  garlands  for  "  mamma,"  throwing  bouquets  at  Chris 
tine,  and  filling  the  air  with  his  fresh  young  voice.  Mrs.  Berry,  almost 
as  happy  as  he,  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  apprehensions  for  tlys 
day.  She  was  dressed  in  a  robe  of  pale  blue,  which,  while  it  made  her 
look  more  delicate,  became  her  greatly ;  and  she  seemed  hardly  out  of 
girlhood  with  that  bright  look  in  her  face,  and  the  ready  smile  coming 
at  her  boy's  wish. 

"  Isn't  mamma  pretty  ?  "  David  had  asked.  And  then,  with  the 
tenderness  shown  only  to  "mamma,"  he  had  pulled  her  down,  and 
kissed  her,  asked  her  to  take  him  in  her  arms,  and  tell  him  how  she 
loved  him.  So,  holding  him  to  her,  she  said,  solemnly,  as  if  it  were 
prayer,  - 

"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  With  every  breath  I  draw, 
with  every  present  joy,  with  every  future  hope,  I  love  you." 

"  And  I  love  you,  too,  mamma,"  the  boy  had  said,  clinging  tight 
to  her,  and  pressing  his  face  to  hers.  They  were  standing  under  a 
great  tree,  through  whose  lightened  foliage  sunshine  streamed  upon 
them,  brightening  the  mother's  pale  face,  adding  beauty  to  the  rosy 
boy,  whose  arms  were  about  her  neck.  Christine,  on  the  stone  seat 


i6o 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


near  the  well,  looked  at  them  through  tears.     To-day  she  could  not 
keep  back  her  tears.     The  gayer  the  boy  grew,  the  happier  in  him  his 


MRS.    BERRY    AND    DAVID. 


mother,    greater,    stronger,   became    the    nervous    apprehension    that 
made  her  steal  stealthy  glances  down  the  road  toward  the  city.     But 


DAVID'S  BIRTHDAY.  161 

as  the  day  passed  on,  and  even  Mr.  Berry  did  not  appear,  she  grew 
calmer,  and  her  smiles  were  no  longer  forced. 

Walking  slowly  up  and  down  beneath  the  trees,  answering  ques 
tions  from  Mrs.  Berry,  and  David  too,  about  the  faith  and  noble  life 
of  her  grandfather,  Christine  was  feeling  the  sweetness  of  the  hour. 
When,  on  a  sudden  impulse,  David  cried,  "  I  will  hide,  and  mamma  will 
find  me,"  he  started  off  at  full  run.  Christine,  seated,  watched  the 
merry  game  between  the  two,  smiling  in  sympathy  with  their  laughter. 
It  was  David's  turn  to  hide  now  ;  and,  bidding  mamma  close  well  her 
eyes,  he  ran  in  glad  jumps  to  the  front  of  the  house.  His  mother 
waited  for  his  shout,  but  it  came  not.  Paling  a  little  with  sudden 
fear,  she  ran  to  the  well-mound,  whence  she  could  command  a  view  of 
the  garden.  As  she  stood  there,  Christine  saw  her  face  change,  as  if 
turning  to  stone  ;  and,  starting  to  her  feet,  she  saw  David  rushing 
wildly,  followed  quickly  by  his  father  and  a  stranger.  Hidden  by  the 
trees,  Mr.  Berry  did  not  notice  her. 

"  Stop,  David.  Come  to  me  this  instant,  or  it  will  be  worse  for 
you." 

His  voice  was  harsh,  and  shaking  with  anger.  He  put  out  his 
hand  to  grasp  the  child  ;  but,  with  a  spring,  he  escaped. 

"  Do  not  be  annoyed,  Mr.  Berry,"  said  the  stranger.  And  some 
thing  in  his  voice  made  Christine  shiver.  "  Your  little  son  will  soon 
learn  the  holy  law,  —  obedience."  But  Mr.  Berry  did  not  seem  to 
hear  him.  Defied  thus,  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  by  his  own 
child,  he  felt  bound  to  assert  his  authority.  Taking  long  strides,  he 
had  his  hand  almost  upon  the  bright  head  ;  when  wild  with  terror,  and 
shrieking,  "  Mamma,  mamma,  save  me ! "  the  child  rushed  up  the 
mound,  and  sprang  into  her  extended  arms. 

For  less  than  a  second  the  frail  figure  swayed  backwards  with  the 
impetus  of  that  spring.  With  a  smothered  gasp,  Christine  ran 
towards  the  two,  seeing  their  danger.  But,  before  she  could  reach 


1 62  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

the  spot  where  those  figures  stood,  there  was  only  space.  The  sun 
shone  upon  grass  and  marble,  and  a  sepulchral  splash  told  where 
mother  and  child  had  fallen.  The  stranger,  stooping  over  the  well, 
looked  down.  Cold  and  dark,  it  told  no  secrets.  Christine,  running 
quickly  to  the  house,  had  picked  up  a  coil  of  rope  she  had  seen  on  the 
porch,  and,  returning,  was  fastening  one  end  around  her  body,  before 
the  two  men  had  recovered  self-possession.  Pressing  the  other  end  in 
Mr.  Berry's  stiff  hand,  she  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  well.  Mr.  Berry  did 
not  speak,  —  seemed  unconscious  of  what  she  was  doing.  But  the 
stranger  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"  You  are  risking  your  life,"  he  said.  "  I  will  call  men  accustomed 
to  these  things." 

"  Hold  the  rope,"  was  her  answer  ;  and,  shaking  off  his  hand,  she 
took  the  fearful  plunge. .  How  cold  the  water  was  !  But  she  was  a 
sailor's  child  ;  and  the  lessons  of  her  youth  bore  fruit,  as  down,  down 
she  went  in  that  terrible  dive.  She  touched  their  icy  faces,  steadied 
herself,  put  her  arms  firmly  around  them,  then,  giving  the  rope  a  jerk, 
locked  her  hands  together.  Slowly,  slowly  they  were  pulled  up.  As 
she  felt  the  warm  air,  Christine  fainted.  When  she  recovered  con 
sciousness,  she  was  lying  on  the  floor  in  the  parlor,  John  Smith  bend 
ing  over  her,  some  one  feeling  her  pulse,  and  a  strange  voice  saying,  — 

"  She  will  soon  be  all  right." 

With  consciousness  came  remembrance.  "  Mrs.  Berry  —  David  ?  " 
she  said  faintly. 

"  Christine,  you  must  keep  quiet."  Her  uncle's  voice  was  strangely 
agitated,  his  face  was  very  pale. 

"  God  have  mercy  !  They  are  dead  !  I  know  it."  And,  putting 
one  trembling  hand  to  shield  her  eyes,  she  wept. 

"  My  dear  niece,  you  will  be  ill  if  you  are  not  calm." 

His  thoughts  were  all  for  her.  What  mattered  it  to  him  if  the 
whole  world  perished,  so  she  lived  ?  What  to  him  were  those  two 


DA  VID  'S  BIRTH  DA  Y.  1 63 

cold  forms  lying  near  ?  Only  a  woman  and  her  child  !  While  she  ! 
And  the  room  turned  black  as  he  once  again  lived  over  the  moment, 
when,  talking  to  a  group  of  gentlemen  in  the  hotel-lobby,  a  man  had 
jumped  from  an  exhausted  horse,  and,  rushing  to  the  door,  had  called,  — 

"  Is  Dr.  X here  ?  Come  quick,  for  God's  sake  !  Mrs.  Berry 

and  Mrs.  Smith  have  been  drowned  in  Berry's  well." 

Mrs.  Smith  !  That  name  made  his  heart  stand  still.  It  was  only 
last  evening  Christine  had  told  him  she  would  spend  this  day  with 
Mrs.  Berry.  He  walked  quickly  out,  took  a  hack  at  the  door,  and, 
telling  the  driver  he  would  be  paid  treble  if  he  made  speed,  drove 
to  the  first  doctor's.  Taking  the  physician  with  him,  they  reached 
Mr.  Berry's  house  before  the  arrival  of  the  other  doctor.  In  the 
darkened  parlor,  on  the  floor,  lay  three  dripping  bodies,  the  water  in 
little  pools  around  them,  and  the  terrified  servants  trying,  without 
effect,  what  restoratives  they  knew.  Looking  down  on  his  boy  was 
the  father.  Not  a  sound  from  his  lips,  not  a  muscle  moved.  He  was 
like  one  struck  dead.  Hardly  glancing  at  the  others,  John  Smith, 
seeing  Christine,  was  at  her  side. 

"  Look  first  to  her,"  he  said  to  the  doctor. 

Already  she  had  begun  to  breathe  ;  and,  speaking  the  words  she 
had  heard,  the  doctor  hurried  to  the  others.  He  felt  the  pulse  of 
each,  listened  at  each  heart,  and  then  called,  — 

"  Open  the  windows.     I  want  air  and  light." 

Bright  flashed  the  sunlight  on  a  sight  to  make  angels  weep.  With 
her  pretty  dress  "clinging  like  cerement,"  her  delicate  arms  locked 
fast  around  her  child,  the  mother  lay  —  dead  !  And  the  boy,  —  his 
rounded  cheek  pressed  to  hers,  —  was  he  dead  too  ?  It  was  the 
doubt  of  this  that  made  the  doctor  call  for  light.  Leaning  on  her 
uncle's  arm,  with  water  still  dripping  from  her,  through  tears  Chris 
tine  looked  on  those  two  white  faces.  No  terror  in  them  now.  Only 
love,  sublime,  eternal ! 


1 64  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Without  a  struggle  they  had  passed  away.  God  had  lifted  the 
clouds  which  overhung  their  lives,  in  his  own  way.  Fearful  to 
human  nature,  incomprehensible  to  human  hearts,  yet  must  we  sub 
mit,  bowing  to  his  will.  So  felt  Christine,  as,  after  a  few  moments, 
the  doctor,  shaking  his  head,  said,  — 

"  I  see  no  signs  of  life.  It  seems  a  pity  to  separate  them,"  he 
added,  as  if  to  himself. 

And  then,  in  a  voice  so  unlike  his  own  that  Christine  started,  Mr. 
Berry  said,  — 

"  Try  every  means  to  restore  that  boy.  Even  if  you  know  he  is 
dead,  try  to  restore  him." 

Dr.  X arriving,  the  two  doctors  labored  at  the  resuscitation  of 

the  child.  Again  and  again  they  strove  to  bring  back  life's  breath 
to  that  little  body.  Sitting  near,  wrapped  in  a  warm  cloak  her  uncle 
had  put  around  her,  Christine  waited.  Time  passed.  The  doctors 
worked  on.  But  no  human  power  could  stir  that  still  body  with  life's 
pulses.  His  soul  had  fled.  Gone  with  the  mother  he  loved,  away 
from  a  life  so  full  of  difficulties,  —  a  life  that  would  either  degrade  his 
fair  soul  or  break  his  heart. 

The  doctors  ceased.     "There  is  no  hope.     The  child  is  dead."     Dr. 

X was  speaking  to  the  father.     Mr.  Berry  did  not  reply.     He  gave 

no  sign  of  hearing,  did  not  seem  to  see,  as,  with  a  touch  of  nature 
that  made  Christine's  tears  flow  afresh,  the  doctors  put  the  child  back 
in  his  mother's  arms,  then,  bowing,  left  the  room. 

Christine  knelt  beside  the  dead,  kissed  tenderly  each  face,  and 
then,  with  a  pitiful  glance  upon  him,  even  him,  whose  acts  had  killed 
them,  was  led  away  by  her  uncle.  At  the  threshold  she  turned  for  a 
last  look  at  those  two  who  had  so  deeply  entered  into  her  life.  Oh, 
pitiful  group  upon  which  the  sunlight  rested  !  And,  gazing  down  in 
stony  despair,  the  murderer  ! 


THE  FALLEN  MASK. 


165 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE    FALLEN    MASK. 

VEN  while  she  felt  death  to  be  the  only  solution  to 
the  sad  problem  of  their  lives,  Christine  grieved  for 
her  friends.  Days  passed,  and  yet  her  life  missed 
something  which  had  been  strong  to  comfort  it 
for  the  drear  loneliness  into  which  it  had  fallen. 
Alone,  almost  always  alone,  she  shivered  as  colder 
grew  the  air,  and,  blown  by  chill  winds,  in  rustling 
showers  the  leaves  fell. 

Malcolm's   "Too  bad  that    Berry  should   have 
lost   his   boy.      He    seemed   to   think   lots   of    the 
child,"   dried   up   the  tears    Christine   would    have 
wept  on  a  loving  breast. 

Kinder  and  more  thoughtful  than  ever,  the  good  uncle  was  ready 
to  sympathize  with  his  niece.  But  sincerely  fond  as  she  was  growing 
of  him,  who  seemed  more  like  father  to  her,  Christine  was,  by  nature, 
reserved.  Love  alone  was  the  "  open  sesame  "  to  her  deepest  feel 
ings.  And  there  was  one  who  loved  her  even  as  she  loved  him. 
To  her  grandfather  she  wrote  of  her  dead  friends.  In  his  heart 
reposed  the  sacred  secret  of  their  lives.  His  answer  came,  a  part 
of  himself;  and  sitting  by  the  window,  looking  through  tears'  sad 
mist  at  the  sadness  of  the  autumn  day,  she  turned  again  to  his 
dear  words,  that  some  of  his  strength  might  come  to  her  fainting 
heart  :  — 


1 66  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  My  darling,  though  human  nature  recoils  in  affright,  death  is  not  sad.  '  Ending 
the  heartache,  and  the  thousand  other  aches  that  flesh  is  heir  to,'  it  brings  us  to  an 
eternity  of  brightness.  All  this  we  do  not  comprehend,  because  earth's  dust  blinds 
our  eyes.  But  we  must  believe.  No  reasons  can  satisfy  intelligence.  Our  reasons 
are  so  weak,  our  intelligence  so  limited,  yet  each  so  pride-full,  they  rise  above  our 
praying  faith,  and  demand  hearing.  But  there  is  a  voice,  God-given,  which  answers 
them,  —  the  craving,  the  necessity,  of  our  hearts.  Without  this  faith,  what  are  we  ? 
Storm-driven  birds,  wearied  of  wing,  and  no  shelter  near.  And  with  it,  serene  and 
safe,  we  rest  upon  God's  cross,  and  reach  down  loving  arms  to  other  souls  strug 
gling  in  fierce  waves.  Without  it,  our  lives  are  governed  but  by  self-interest,  human 
sympathies.  With  it,  poorly,  faintly  perhaps,  yet  do  we  reflect  God's  own  charity,  — 
love,  patience,  forgiveness,  for  friend,  for  enemy,  growing  each  day  nearer  the  holy, 
most  holy,  life  of  Christ.  Thus,  seen  through  faith,  death  loses  its  terrors.  Were 
I  dead  this  moment,  my  spirit  would  be  near  you,  my  child ;  and  then  I  should  not 
miss  you  as  I  do. 

"  Yet  let  not  this  disquiet  you,  nor  mar  the  happiness  of  your  home.  The  old 
have  a  power  of  memory  as  compensation  for  the  loss  of  youth.  And,  when  I  sit 
in  my  quiet  house,  I  see  my  Christine.  As  a  baby,  she  plays  around  my  feet,  and 
clambers  to  my  knee.  She  brightens  the  world  for  me.  Beautiful  as  it  is,  I  find  its 
chief  beauty  in  my  Christine's  face. 

"  Our  dear  friends  are  well,  Patience  studying  faithfully.  She  has  not  yet  ceased 
thanking  me  for  taking  your  place  as  teacher.  She  runs  up  almost  every  morning 
to  see  if  I  need  any  thing,  and,  in  the  evening,  comes  to  recite  her  lessons.  As  I 
see  her  pretty  face  bending  seriously  above  her  book,  I  think  of  another  face,  and 
another  little  maid  I've  helped,  as  best  I  could,  over  the  stony  path  of  knowledge, 
until,  grown  learned,  she  outruns  her  master.  So  Patience  links  me  yet  closer  to 
my  past,  and  my  dear,  dear  child. 

"  Tabitha  does  not  look  well.  She  is  kept  nervous  and  anxious  at  the  newly 
awakened  interest  of  Bishop  White.  He  spoke  to  Tabitha  one  day  last  week  as  he 
stood  at  her  gate,  —  said  he  thought  Patience  should  have  the  advantage  of  the 
Mormon  seminary.  Patience  is  frightened  at  the  bare  idea.  Her  father  may  medi 
tate  a  rich  marriage  for  her.  God  save  her  !  Poor  child,  poor  child  !  I  would  she 
were  not  so  fair.  Yet  am  I  doing  wrong,  for  beauty  is  God's  gift.  He  knows  best. 

"  Christie  does  not  gain  strength.  To  please  him,  and  myself  too,  I've  become 
his  teacher  as  well  as  his  sister's.  Twice  every  week  I  go  to  him.  His  spirit  is  so 
bright,  and  heart  so  strong  !  He  writes  some  remarkable  things.  If  he  lives,  and 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  167 

can  go  to  a  country  where  mind  is  not  crushed,  the  child  will  some  day  be  called  a 
genius.     But,  whatever  his  future,  his  daily  life  is  nearer  heaven  than  earth. 

"  Keep  well,  my  child,  and,  with  your  husband,  come  to  us  at  Christmas-tide." 


She  was  lingering  on  the  dear  words,  feeling  that  calm  steal 
over  her  that  to  troubled  hearts  sometimes  speaks  in  ocean's  mighty 
roar,  waving  forest-boughs,  or  the  restful,  restful  mountains,  whose 
tops  seem  whispering  heaven  of  heroes'  deeds.  Her  grandfather's 
noble  face  and  peaceful  smile  filled  the  room  for  Christine,  and  took 
away  its  oppressive  loneliness  until  Malcolm  came  home. 

He  was  vexed  at  something.  What  was  it  ?  With  that  same 
dizziness  coming  upon  her,  she  tried  to  imagine  what  could  have 
annoyed  him.  In  answer  to  her  gentle  question,  his  "  Nothing,"  so 
sharply  and  significantly  spoken,  silenced,  while  it  convinced  her  there 
must  have  occurred  something  really  important. 

After  his  hastily  eaten  dinner,  he  rose  to  go.  At  the  door  he 
stopped,  bit  his  lip,  hesitated,  and  then  in  a  quick,  impatient  way, 
said,  — 

"  I  do  think,  Christine,  you  might  sooner  have  returned  the  call 
of  Mr.  Sanson's  wives.  He  was  barely  civil  to  me  to-day,  and,  when. 
I  asked  the  cause,  said  he  felt  very  much  hurt  that  you  hadn't  been 
to  see  the  Mrs.  Sansons.  Both  ladies  took  a  great  fancy  to  you. 
And,  what  makes  it  worse,  the  elder  goes  away  in  a  day  or  so.  It  is 
rather  hard  on  a  man  when  his  wife  won't  attend  to  society  business." 

"  Forgive  me,  Malcolm,"  Christine  had  answered.  "  I  shall  go 
to-morrow  without  fail." 

"  Go  where  ? "  asked  John  Smith,  coming  in  on  his  way  to  a 
political  meeting. 

And,  when  Malcolm  explained,  his  uncle  had  a  plan  that  called  forth 
a  faint  smile  from  his  niece.  He  would  call  for  her,  drive  her  to  the 
Sansons.  After  the  visit,  they  would  stop  at  the  bank  for  Malcolm, 


1 68  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

ride  out  to  the  boiling-spring,  and  then  stop  at  an  exhibition  of  art 
works  that  was  being  held  in  the  city. 

"  You  will  enjoy  them,  my  dear,"  he  said  to  Christine,  himself 
enjoying  the  momentary  brightening  of  her  face. 

He  could  have  struck  Malcolm  when  his  light  words,  "  Thanks. 
For  myself,  I  must  decline.  But  Christine  will  go,"  took  all  the  light 
from  the  dark  eyes,  and  gave  to  the  sweet  lips  that  sad  drooping.  She 
did  not  speak  ;  but,  when  he  called  "  Christine,"  she  followed  her 
husband  to  the  door. 

"  Don't  be  a  little  fool.  You'll  enjoy  yourself  more  without  me. 
And  now,  dear  girl,  I  ask,  as  an  especial  favor,  that  you  be  as  pleasant 
as  possible  to  my  uncle.  If  he  keeps  on  liking  you  so  well,  I  shall 
expect  him  to  settle  half  his  fortune  on  you.  By-by."  And,  touch 
ing  his  lips  to  her  cheek,  he  ran  lightly  down  the  steps.  She  stood, 
for  a  moment,  just  where  he  had  left  her,  holding  fast  to  the  knob  of 
the  open  door.  She  felt  so  dizzy,  every  thing  looked  so  black  !  Was 
she  going  to  faint  ?  No  :  she  mustn't  do  that.  A  kindly  voice  at  her 
side,  a  strong  hand  closing  the  door ;  and  somehow,  by  the  half-opened 
window,  she  sat  in  the  parlor,  holding  some  roses  her  uncle  had 
brought  to  her. 

"You  didn't  notice  them  when  I  handed  them  to  you  before 
Malcolm  left." 

"Didn't  I?  They  are  very  beautiful."  And  then  she  noticed 
they  were  red  roses,  —  like  the  one  she  had  given  Malcolm  on  that 
far-away  spring  day  ;  like  those  she  had  worn  the  first  evening  she 
had  met  Mrs.  Berry.  She  did  not  know  her  tears  were  falling  until 
she  saw  them  glistening  on  the  velvety  leaves.  Only  that  dizziness 
was  gone  ;  and  her  grandfather's  words,  "  through  death  to  an  eternity 
of  brightness,"  came  to  her  with  the  roses'  perfume.  John  Smith  did 
not  seem  to  notice  her  weeping.  He  sat  at  a  little  distance,  not  look 
ing  at  her,  as  she  found  by  a  timid  glance  when  she  brushed  away  the 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  169 

tears,  fearing  lest  he  should  think  Malcolm  had  said  aught  to  make 
her  unhappy.  And  then  she  gradually  grew  more  composed,  as  her 
uncle  spoke  quietly  of  things  themselves  indifferent,  but  to  which  he 
lent  an  interest.  When  he  rose  to  go,  she  looked  up  with  a  smile  for 
him,  —  a  smile  that  he  thought  of  every  moment,  even  while,  at  the 
meeting,  men  were  shouting  in  applause  as  he  closed  the  best  speech 
of  the  evening. 

The  next  morning,  before  Christine  had  finished  her  toilet,  the 
carriage  was  at  the  door.  John  Smith  thought  she  looked  most  lovely, 
as,  flushed  with  haste,  anxious  not  to  keep  him  waiting,  she  entered 
the  parlor,  ready  for  the  visit.  Being  rather  early  for  calling,  Mr. 
Smith  proposed  a  short  drive  through  the  city.  Past  the  grand  new 
temple  hastening  to  completion,  its  beautiful  granite,  shot  with  black, 
glittering  in  the  sunlight.  Near  this  noble  structure,  the  older  tem 
ple,  looking  small  and  insignificant.  But  here,  thousands  had  been 
taught  a  religion  degrading  to  youth  and  age,  —  a  religion  at  whose 
moral  depravity  the  civilized  world  stands  aghast !  John  Smith,  watch 
ing  Christine's  face,  saw  deep  sadness  cover  it,  and  the  flush  that  had 
been  so  lovely  fade  into  paleness.  He  had  seen  her  steady  gaze  on 
the  Mormon  temples,  and  divined  her  thoughts. 

"  Thinking  of  the  faith,  Christine,  which  to  me  is  revelation,  to 
you  is  pain  ?  My  dear  niece,  our  minds  are  not  all  constituted  alike. 
Like  maxims,  even  in  religion,  will  not  satisfy  opposing  natures. 
But,  of  all  religions,  should  not  the  first  principle  be  charity  ?  Where 
you  cannot  understand,  will  you  not  extend  that  holy  virtue  ?  " 

He  spoke  very  gently.  His  gentleness  was  more  potent  than  argu 
ment.  But  was  it  right  to  be  charitable  to  that  belief  which  coun 
selled  immorality  ?  Was  it  charity,  God's  true  love,  not  to  oppose  a 
religion  that  forced  superstition  upon  growing  minds,  and  slavery  upon 
mothers  and  daughters  ?  How  could  he,  that  kind  uncle,  with  his  com 
prehensive  mind,  his  great  intelligence,  uphold  a  faith  so  degrading  ? 


I  70  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Mrs.  Berry  and  her  martyred  youth  came  in  Christine's  thought. 
Her  pale,  agonized  face,  those  nervous,  fluttering  hands,  appealed 
against  the  belief  this  man  upheld.  The  hypocrisy  of  Mr.  Berry,  his 
mask  of  religion,  used  as  step  to  political  power,  added  blackness  to 
the  picture.  And,  like  cherub  face,  little  David  smiled  on  her  from 
heaven.  Saved  from  the  future  prepared  for  him,  God  had  helped 
him  at  an  hour  when  help  seemed  impossible.  Would  he  not  help 
the  other  little  ones  ?  Her  heart  throbbed  as  she  prayed  for  them,  — 
the  little  ones  growing  older,  the  little  ones  yet  unborn.  She  prayed 
for  her  uncle,  that,  like  Paul,  he  might  become  God's  apostle,  and  him 
self  preach  conversion  to  those  whom  he  had  led  astray.  Yet,  though 
in  error,  at  least  he  was  sincere.  His  intellect  was  clouded,  his  judg 
ment  warped ;  but  against  him  there  was  not  the  sin  of  falsehood. 

The  carriage  rolled  on  under  the  now  almost  leafless  trees.  Yet 
how  beautiful  the  tracery  of  their  branches  against  the  clear  sky  ! 
And  the  mountains  surrounding  the  natural  basin  of  Salt  Lake  had 
already  donned  their  caps  of  snow.  A  lover  of  nature,  Christine  felt 
its  calm  stealing  over  her,  as  thus  luxuriously,  in  easiest  carriage,  they 
rode  along  ;  while  John  Smith,  master  of  the  art,  touched  the  keys 
that  brought  smiles  to  her  face  before  they  drew  up  at  Mr.  Sanson's 
door.  There  was  another  carriage  in  waiting,  which  moved  on,  and 
gave  place  to  them.  Helping  Christine  out,  John  Smith,  saying  his 
soul  was  not  attuned  to  harmonious  discourse,  and  bidding  her  not 
stay  too  long,  and  waste  the  day  indoors,  re-entered  the  carriage  to 
wait  for  her. 

Christine  found  the  door  open,  and  in  the  hall  signs  of  confusion. 
To  a  tidy-looking  girl,  who  came  forward  to  receive  them,  she  handed 
two  cards.  "  For  the  two  ladies,"  she  said,  as  the  smiling  girl,  with 
out  speaking,  indicated  an  open  door.  The  room  was  so  dark,  that 
Christine  could  hardly  distinguish  objects.  Almost  groping  her  way, 
she  seated  herself  on  a  sofa  nearly  facing  the  door,  where,  by  any  one 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  171 

entering,  she  would  be  soonest  seen.  So  many  minutes  passed,  that, 
thinking  of  Mr.  Smith  waiting  outside,  she  rose  to  summon  a  servant, 
when  voices  approaching  made  her  resume  her  seat.  A  man  came 
down-stairs  bearing  a  trunk  ;  then  Elder  Sanson,  all  smiles  and  self- 
satisfaction,  with  his  young  wife,  attired  in  travelling-costume.  He 
had  her  hand,  and  was  talking  in  that  strain,  half  affectionate,  half 
flattering,  that  some  imagine  attractive  to  the  young.  It  seemed  so 
to  this  young  person,  who  replied,  "  Lor'  me  !  Sech  nonsense  !  Well, 
I  never  !  "  and  then  gave  a  pinch  to  his  ear,  at  which  they  both 
laughed  immoderately.  The  open  door,  commanding  a  long  view  of 
the  stairs  and  hall,  would  have  made  Christine  uncomfortable,  had  not 
the  presence  of  the  maid,  to  whom  she  had  given  her  cards,  assured 
her  they  were  aware  of  the  visitor  waiting  in  the  parlor.  The  maid 
followed  Mrs.  Sanson,  with  travelling-satchel  and  shawl  in  her  hand. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sanson  stopped  for  a  moment  just  opposite  the  door. 
Christine  rose,  expecting  their  entrance.  But  they  did  not  come. 
Her  face  flushed  ;  as,  supposing  this  was  Elder  Sanson's  way  of  show 
ing  his  vexation  at  her  tardy  visit,  she  felt  the  rudeness  with  which 
she  was  being  treated.  An  impulse  came  over  her  to  leave  the  house, 
and  then  she  thought  of  Malcolm.  He  would  be  offended.  Could 
she  not  bear  a  little  slight  for  his  sake  ?  So  she  again  resumed  her 
seat,  and  looked  away  from  the  love-passages  of  the  old  elder  and  his 
young  wife,  which  seemed  given  for  her  benefit,  and  that  of  the  smil 
ing  maid.  Presently,  taking  out  his  watch,  Mr.  Sanson  said,  - 

"  We've  not  much  time  to  lose."  And  Mrs.  Sanson  called  out  to 
some  one  above,  — 

"  Come  and  say  good-by,  and  wish  us  a  pleasant  trip." 

"  In  a  moment,  my  dear,"  came  the  answer,  in  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Sanson  No.  i. 

Insulted  now,  for  there  was  no  doubt  Mrs.  Sanson  No.  2  did  not 
intend  to  notice  her  visit,  Christine  decided  she  would  wait  for  a  mo- 


172 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


ment  to  see  Mrs.  Sanson,  senior,  explain  the  cause  of  her  delay,  and 
regulate  her  own  conduct  by  her  courtesy  or  discourtesy.  She  had  just 
come  to  this  conclusion  when  the  senior  Mrs.  Sanson  appeared.  She 
looked  far  from  well,  but  was  smiling  graciously  ;  and  when  her 


"  I'LL  JEST   SPARE   YOU    ONE    KISS." 

blooming  sister  kissed  her  sallow  face,  and,  with  loud  laugh,  held 
towards  her  the  elder's  coarse  mouth,  saying,  "  Now,  I'll  jest  spare 
you  one  kiss,"  she  leaned  forward,  and  touched  her  lips  to  it,  as  if  it 
were  a  perfectly  natural  and  agreeable  arrangement.  And  her  words, 
in  pleasant  voice,  only  added  to  this  marvellous  example  of  Mormon 
rule. 

"  My  dear  sister,  I  do  wish  you  pleasure.     Having  so  often  trav- 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  I  73 

elled  with  my,  our,  husband,"  —  she  corrected  herself  with  slight 
emphasis,  —  "I  know  full  well  my  wish  will  be  more  than  realized." 

What  religious  intensity  !  What  strength  of  belief  !  What  power 
the  Mormon  Church  possessed  !  It  annihilated  a  woman's  nature. 
And  yet  she  must  suffer.  It  was  not  in  created  being  not  to  suffer 
at  coldness  from  one  beloved.  For  giving  her  a  cool  marital  kiss,  and 
"  Good-by,  my  dear,"  Elder  Sanson,  with  excess  of  demonstration,  led 
away  his  young  wife. 

A  most  unwilling  witness  of  this,  to  her,  painful  scene,  Christine 
moved  forward  to  greet  Mrs.  Sanson,  senior,  who  entered  hurriedly. 
Anticipating  an  apology  for  the  rudeness  of  the  younger  wife,  and 
feeling  so  full  of  pity  for  this  older  one,  Christine,  with  extended  hand, 
had  already  said,  "  Pray  don't  mention  it.  I  "  —  But  Mrs.  Sanson  did 
not  see  her,  did  not  even  hear  her.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her 
existence.  With  the  precision  of  one  acquainted  with  the  arrangement 
of  the  room,  she  walked  so  quickly  that  her  dress,  with  a  "  swish  !  " 
swung  against  pieces  of  furniture,  and,  with  rapid  movement,  dashed 
aside  the  heavy  curtain,  letting  the  glare  of  daylight  flash  on  her  face. 
And  what  a  face !  Christine,  looking  at  her,  trembled  violently,  as, 
fascinated,  rooted  to  the  spot,  she  hardly  breathed.  The  woman's 
shaking  hand  rattled  the  brass  rings  of  the  hangings,  and  the  sound 
seemed  unnatural  accompaniment  to  that  most  inhuman  countenance. 
Eyes  glaring  like  tigress  at  bay.  Her  brows  so  heavily  knitted,  that 
her  forehead  was  a  mass  of  wrinkles  ;  while  under  the  thin  skin  of 
age,  even  to  her  throat,  the  knotted  veins  stood  out  clear  and  distinct. 
In  hissing  gasp  her  breath  seemed  gathering  force  for  speech  ;  and 
from  distorted  mouth,  like  pythoness  of  old,  came  fearful  curse. 

"  May  Heaven  blast  you  !  May  loathsome  disease  eat  up  your  skin, 
and  turn  to  repulsion  his  fickle  fancy  !  May  your  offspring  be  thing 
so  horrible,  that  it  shall  sicken  the  sight  of  man  !  Curse  you,  curse 
you  !  You  have  robbed  me  of  my  life." 


174  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Christine's  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth.  She  could 
not  utter  a  sound.  Every  faculty  was  lost  in  horror, — horror  at 
that  figure  whose  writhing  mouth  seemed,  in  silence,  piling  curse 
upon  curse,  until,  like  mountains,  they  crushed  her  with  their 
hideous  weight.  Suddenly  the  curtain  was  dropped.  The  room  was 
in  darkness.  A  hurried  movement,  and  a  figure  stood  in  the  door 
way. 

"  Are  you  ill,  ma'am  ?  "  said  a  man-servant  passing  down  the  hall. 
And  then  Mrs.  Sanson's  voice,  in  its  usual  measured  tone,  — 

"  Only  a  slight  headache,  Thomas.  You  need  not  serve  dinner. 
Send  some  tea  to  my  room."  Quietly  she  moved  up  the  stairs  ;  and 
Christine  was  alone  in  the  dark  room,  which  still  echoed  with  those 
frightful  curses.  She  tried  to  move,  but  felt  in  a  nightmare.  "  Save 
her,  save  us  all,  O  Lord  !  "  she  prayed  ;  and  the  spell  was  broken. 

Slowly,  languidly,  she  walked  to  the  door  of  the  room,  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  hall.  Seeing  no  one,  she  went  to  the  front-door. 
Opening  it,  she  met  her  uncle  on  the  step. 

"  You  were  so  long,  I  was  anxious.  Christine,"  he  exclaimed  in 
sudden  alarm,  "  you  have  been  ill  !  " 

"  No,"  —  she  could  barely  utter  the  words,  —  "  let  us  go." 

Drawing  her  arm  through  his,  he  helped  her  to  the  carriage,  watch 
ing  her  anxiously,  she  was  so  pale,  so  agitated. 

"  What  is  it,  my  child  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

She  had  unwillingly  witnessed  the  tearing  open  of  the  hidden  page 
in  a  woman's  life  ;  and,  however  terrible,  it  was  a  sacred  secret.  Mrs. 
Berry's  words,  "the  mask  of  hypocrisy  held  overall,"  had  sprung  to 
hideous  reality.  She  leaned  back  in  the  carriage.  Even  the  kind 
attentions  of  the  most  kind  uncle  could  not  exorcise  the  demon,  which, 
looking  from  a  woman's  eyes,  had  affrighted  her. 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  175 

After  a  few  days,  there  came  to  Christine  a  note  of  apology  from 
Mrs.  Sanson. 

"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  SMITH,  —  I  have  just  received  your  cards,  which  I  learn  were 
left  some  days  since.  Our  new  waitress  is  a  freshly  imported  German,  and  cannot 
speak  a  word  of  English  ;  so,  if  any  thing  should  have  been  amiss,  I  trust  you  will 
excuse.  As  soon  as  I  recover  from  a  slight  indisposition,  I  shall  do  myself  the 
honor  and  pleasure  of  returning  your  call,"  etc. 

But  she  never  came,  and  so  the  acquaintance  ended  ;  and  Chris 
tine,  too  sad  to  form  new  ones,  was  striving  to  bear  those  trials  which 
God  was  sending.  She  could  hardly  tell  when  it  began,  the  change  had 
been  so  gradual  ;  but  "  business,"  as  Malcolm  called  it,  absorbed  every 
moment  of  his  time;  except  the  hours  for  meals,  or  when  he  slept. 
What  that  business  was,  Christine  knew  not.  To  her  questions,  he 
returned  only  such  vague  answers  as,  "  Nothing  that  you  could  under 
stand,  my  love  ;"  or,  "One  can  hardly  explain  business  to  a  woman," 
or  some  other  equally  clear  reply,  until  Christine,  grown  too  proud  to 
question  further,  made  no  comment,  as,  after  hurried  meal  and  hasty 
kiss,  he  would  leave  her.  Leave  her,  and  to  what  ? 

To  listen  to  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  watch  the  hands,  as  slowly, 
wearily,  the  hours  dragged  by  ;  to  try  to  pray,  and  feel  the  words,  like 
clouds,  rest  on  her  heart  ;  to  know,  each  day  surer  and  surer,  that, 
where  she  loved,  she  was  not  beloved.  It  was  November,  with  moan 
ing  winds,  with  damp,  cold  air,  and  sad,  sad  days.  Wearied  of  the 
loneliness  of  the  house,  she  would  vary  it  with  the  loneliness  of  the 
streets  ;  starting  back,  and  drawing  down  her  veil,  as  some  sudden  turn 
would  bring  before  her  a  familiar  face  of  Mormon  acquaintance. 

She  dreaded  a  kindly  look  or  word  from  unloving  lips.  She  feared 
to  break  down,  and,  betraying  her  secret  pain,  bring  censure  on  her 
husband  ;  for  she  was  in  that  condition  when  a  woman  most  needs 
sympathy  and  companionship.  Her  loneliness  was  appalling.  Yet 


I  76  SALT- LAKE  FRUIT. 

she  never  complained,  —  never,  even  by  a  sigh,  told  her  need  of 
human  tenderness. 

Had  it  not  been  for  John  Smith,  she  would  have  felt  entirely  friend 
less.  He  had  seen  the  changing  of  Malcolm's  changeful  nature. 
Busy  as  he  always  was,  he  would  come  in  often  of  an  evening  :  espe 
cially  after  finding  her  so  much  alone,  his  visits  grew  even  more  fre 
quent.  Sometimes  Christine  would  feel  ashamed  at  her  pleasure  in 
seeing  this  kind  uncle,  knowing  the  hour?  spent  with  her  were  robbed 
from  his  three  wives.  Often,  blushing  as  she  did  so,  would  she,  at 
first,  ask  him  to  bring  "  the  Mrs.  Smith"  with  him.  But  they  rarely 
called. 

"  They  prefer  home-quiet,  even  to  the  society  of  those  they  admire. 
And  they- do  admire  you,  my  dear  child,"  he  had  once  added,  as  he 
looked  into  her  wistful  face. 

Except  when  John  Smith  came,  she  had  no  visitors.  Was  it  a 
wonder  that  her  smile  awakened  at  the  coming  of  this  most  kind 
uncle  ?  And,  for  her  entertainment,  he  would  talk  as  he  seldom  did, 
except  to  produce  an  effect,  or  score  a  mark  in  the  game  of  his  life. 
And  she  would  listen  until  her  listening,  sympathetic,  inspiring,  would 
lift  him  out  of  himself,  and,  forgetting  all  his  past,  make  him  feel  as 
if  but  at  the  beginning  of  life. 

He  had  ceased  to  wonder  what  his  life  would  have  been  had  he 
earlier  met  a  Christine.  For  now  he  lived  only  in  her  presence.  A 
great  contempt  for  Malcolm  grew  up  in  his  mind.  A  man  who  had 
won  such  a  woman,  to  neglect  her  ! 

And  for  himself,  —  rage  !  rage  beyond  expression,  that  he  should 
have  planned  this  marriage,  —  he  who  would  hesitate  at  no  sacrifice  to 
annul  it.  And  how  easily  he  could  annul  it,  were  it  not  for  the  purity 
and  faithfulness  of  Christine. 

He  would,  while  seemingly  absorbed  in  some  political  question, 
plan  various  ways  to  dispose  of  Malcolm.  He  could  be  sent  on  a 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  177 

mission,  and  kept  away  three  years  or  more  ;  could  be  made  to  think 
it  best  for  himself  to  divorce  this  woman,  and  marry  a  richer  one. 

And  then  her  face  would  arise  from  out  this  turbulent  sea  of 
passionate  longings.  And  the  man  who  had  never  refrained  from 
accomplishing  his  objects,  whatever  might  be  the  manner,  and  who 
recognized  no  law  but  might,  would  recoil  abashed  before  the  power 
of  a  woman's  purity.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  let  her  be  one 
whit  less  pure,  and  she  could  not  have  aroused  the  dormant  heart  of 
John  Smith. 

He  now  went  daily  to  Malcolm's  house,  and  always  found  Christine 
alone,  passing  the  long  hours  of  the  evening  as  best  she  could.  Yet 
with  all  his  burning  fire  of  passion,  like  a  slumbering  volcano  longing 
to  burst  forth,  in  every  word  and  gesture  he  appeared  but  the  kind 
uncle  to  the  lonely  woman,  welcoming  him  with  sweetest  smile. 

Never  a  word  or  glance  from  him  that  could  startle  an  angel. 
And  though  sometimes,  when  looking  at  her,  a  mad  longing  would 
come  over  him  to  crush  her  in  his  arms,  and  die  with  her,  the  hands 
that  would  touch  hers  in  the  ordinary  evening  greeting  would  give 
only  the  cool,  kind  clasp  of  relationship.  She  never  complained  of 
Malcolm's  absence,  made  no  mention  of  her  loneliness.  But  John 
Smith  could  see  she  was  growing  paler  every  day,  and  her  smile  had 
a  pathos  about  it  more  touching  than  tears.  Letters  from  home  came 
regularly,  —  one  every  mail  from  Matthew,  often  one  from  Patience 
and  Christie,  and  sometimes  a  few  lines  from  Tabitha  and  Martin,  — 
each  full  of  love  for  her,  of  longing  for  her  coming  ;  and,  in  her 
replies,  not  one  word  of  how  she  they  loved  was  neglected  here. 

"  We  miss  you  every  day  more  and  more,  dear  Christine  "  [wrote  Patience  in 
her  last].  "  Matthew  keeps  well,  but  longs  for  his  '  birdling.'  He  has  had  a  little 
arbor  made  under  your  favorite  apple-tree,  and  a  wicker  chair  for  you,  so  you  can 
read  there,  and  look  out  over  the  road.  We've  all  been  decorating  your  room. 
Christie  is  raising  mignonette  in  a  box  for  the  window.  '  Sweet,  like  my  Christine,' 


178  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

he  says.  And  did  Matthew  tell  you  that  your  place  was  laid  at  table  each  day,  and 
by  it  a  little  bouquet  that  he  plucks  for  you  himself?  We've  all  chosen  a  flower  to 
raise  to  supply  these  bouquets.  Matthew's  are  the  rose  geranium.  '  Always  good, 
fresh,  and  ready,  like  my  child,'  he  said.  And  the  ivy-vine  you  planted,  —  you  re 
member  it,  don't  you  ?  '  This  is  like  her  faithfulness,'  he  told  me  one  day,  when  he 
laughed  a  little  at  me  for  taking  a  rosebush  as  my  particular  care.  '  Why,  Patience,' 
he  said,  '  it  will  be  so  long  before  blooming  ! '  — '  But  it  is  like  her  face,'  I  answered, 
—  '  once  seen,  never  forgotten.'  So  I  go  on,  giving  every  spare  moment  to  my  rose 
bush,  and  longing  for  the  first  bud.  But,  oh,  a  thousand  times  more  do  I  long  for 
your  face,  my  dearest  friend  !  I  heard  some  little  lines  that  I  always  say  when  I 

think  of  you,  — 

"  '  Her  angels  face, 

As  the  great  eye  of  heaven,  shyned  bright, 
And  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  place.' 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  have  it  right.  I  caught  Matthew  saying  it  to  himself  one  day 
when  I  went  down  to  carry  him  some  of  the  fine  cabbages  we  have  raised.  I  knew  he 
was  thinking  of  you.  He  was  smiling,  and  was  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  know  I 
was  there  until  I  touched  him.  I  ran  home,  saying  the  words  over  and  over  again,  not 
to  forget  them.  When  I  told  them  to  Christie  he  was  delighted.  He  has  made  up 
a  rhyme  to  them,  and  a  tune.  Such  a  sweet  melody  !  He  and  I  are  to  sing  it  under 
your  window  the  first  night  you  arrive.  I  hope  Malcolm  does  not  object  to  music. 
Christine,  Christine,  when  will  you  come  ?  Before  the  snow ;  or  just  think  how  cold 
we  will  be  shivering  out  there,  for  we've  quite  determined  on  serenading  you.  Rex 
sends  his  love.  He  has  grown  so  tall  you  would  not  know  him.  Christie  rides  him 
everywhere.  The  nice  soft  harness  you  contrived  is  just  the  thing.  It  is  too  com 
ical  to  see  Rex  come  every  morning  to  have  it  put  on  him.  He's  such  a  wise  fellow, 
and  looks  so  seriously  at  me  when  I  say  silly  things,  that  I  grow  positively  ashamed. 
And,  when  he's  all  harnessed  up,  he  is  so  proud  and  important,  that  I  feel  much 
honored  when  he  rubs  his  nose  against  my  hand.  As  you  directed,  we  fasten  the 
collar  around  his  neck,  and  slip  Christie's  hands  in  the  little  knitted  loops.  He 
guides  Rex  by  a  gentle  pull  of  his  ears.  The  broad  knitted  band  that  goes  round 
Rex's  body,  with  the  loops  for  the  poor  little  legs,  steadies  Christie,  and  makes  him 
comfortable.  It  is  much  easier  for  him  than  the  cart.  The  jolting  was  too  hard  for 
the  dear  little  man.  How  good  you  always  are  !  Our  guardian  angel,  we  call  you. 
Matthew  has  written  Christie's  vision  for  you,  and  put  it  in  the  Bible.  Ever  since 
that  night,  the  dear  child  seems  more  frail.  Sometimes  I  fear  he  will  vanish  from 


THE   FALLEN  MASK. 


179 


our  sight,  and  go  direct  to  the  beautiful  heaven  Matthew  tells  of.  I  want  him  to  be 
happy,  but  I  want  to  keep  him  a  little  longer  in  this  world.  It  is  such  a  lovely  world, 
with  its  trees,  flowers,  the  bright  waters,  and,  above  all,  the  ever-changing  skies. 


r 


CHRISTIE    AND    REX. 


If  we  might  only  have  you  with  us,  and  all  of  us  be  together,  I  think  this  world 
would  be  heaven  enough  for  me.  Matthew  says  we  are  not  intended  to  be  happy 
here,  —  that  this  is  only  a  preparation  for  the  after-life.  He  must  be  right ;  for  even 


l8o  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

I,  who  do  not  require  so  very  much  to  make  this  world  a  heaven,  have  of  late  found 
a  serpent  in  my  flowers. 

"  I  have  told  you,  that,  shortly  after  you  went  away,  Bishop  White  —  I  cannot 
call  him  father  —  came  to  our  gate.  He  did  not  come  in,  but  even  the  sight  of  his 
face  seemed  to  turn  me  sick.  And,  when  mother  bade  me  kiss  him,  I  felt  like  faint 
ing.  He  has  often  come  since.  Doesn't  speak,  but  just  watches  me.  Christine, 
dear,  he  makes  me  so  nervous  by  this  silent  watching,  that  I  can  hardly  keep  from 
screaming.  Mother  never  leaves  me  for  a  moment  while  he  is  in  sight.  If  she 
did,  I  believe  I  would  become  crazy.  I  think  if  I  could  only  have  a  peep  at  your 
dear  face,  it  would  exorcise  that  fearful  one  that  keeps  grinning  and  grinning  at  me, 
even  in  my  dreams.  Matthew  says  we  must  love  all  God's  creation,  but  I  cannot 
love  Bishop  White.  If  I  pretended  it,  I  should  be  false  to  truth. 

"  Martin  is  away.  The  last  sales  he  made  were  very  good.  Mother  has  our 
little  money-bag  quite  full.  She  has  given  it  to  Matthew  to  keep  for  us.  She  wanted 
to  begin  to  repay  him  for  the  team,  but  he  will  not  hear  of  it.  He  says  that  will 
come  when  we  are  settled,  and  Martin  is  regularly  engaged  at  four  dollars  per  day. 
Won't  that  be  grand  ?  Martin  is  now  teaming  for  Mr.  Marks.  The  mill  will  not 
be  ready  for  work  until  the  new  year.  But  there  was  some  hauling  needed,  and 
Martin  was  lucky  enough  to  get  it.  He  will  be  home  for  Christmas.  Will  you  come 
too  ?  Surely  Malcolm  will  not  keep  you  always  in  Salt  Lake.  We  all  love  and  need 
you ;  and  you  would  be  happy  with  us  once  more,  if  only  he  would  come." 

And  so  the  letter  ran  on,  full  of  devotion  for  her  who  sat  alone, 
the  tears  slowly  falling  down  her  face  as  she  read  the  tender  words. 
Of  late,  tears  often  sprang  to  Christine's  eyes  ;  but  rarely  did  she 
weep  as  now,  while  reading  the  letter  of  this  dear  younger  sister. 
It  seemed  so  strange  to  her,  who  had  ever  been  loved,  that  she  could 
not  keep  the  heart  of  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  life.  Daily 
she  saw  it  going  farther  away  from  her.  He  was  not  only  indifferent 
to  her,  but  to  that  dearer  life  that  now  she  could  feel  throbbing  near 
her  own.  He  never  mentioned  it.  She  longed  to  lay  her  aching  head 
on  the  tender  breast  of  her  grandfather.  She  longed  to  clasp  the 
loving  hands  of  the  friends  who  wanted  her.  She  looked  around  the 
pretty  room,  whose  every  detail  spoke  of  dainty  womanhood,  and  its 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  l8l 

loneliness  made  her  shiver.  She  tried  the  piano  for  company  ;  but  her 
fingers  would  only  bring  forth  wailing  minor  chords,  that  made  fresh 
tears  fall.  Then  looking  at  the  clock,  and  seeing  it  pointed  nearly 
the  dinner-hour,  she  hastened  to  make  her  toilet. 

Malcolm  had  once  said  he  admired  a  well-dressed  woman.  And 
this  woman,  who  loved  him,  had  ever  since  tried  to  be  well  dressed 
for  his  sake.  This  evening  she  chose  a  dark  garnet  silk  he  had  given 
her  in  the  early  days  of  their  marriage.  He  had  liked  her  in  it.  The 
delicate  touches  of  pink,  lightening  its  sombre  richness,  became  her, 
he  had  said.  And  the  lightest  word  he  had  ever  said  was  treasured 
in  her  memory. 

She  did  not  blame  him  for  his  growing  indifference.  Even  in  her 
thoughts  she  would  not  blame  him  whom  she  loved.  The  fact  of  this 
indifference  filled  her  with  disappointment  and  grief.  But  she  would 
defend  him  even  to  her  own  heart,  and  say,  "  Love  is  not  within  our 
control."  He  was  never  ungentle  in  his  manners,  never  alluded  to 
the  ambition  he  had  sacrificed  to  her  love.  And,  since  she  had  come 
to  Salt  Lake,  she  had  more  clearly  understood  how  great  this  sacrifice 
of  ambition  would  seem  to  a  young  man  like  Malcolm,  to  whom 
the  possession  of  power  must  be  sweet.  She  saw  that  the  Mormon 
State  required  obedience  of  its  people  ;  that,  when  it  advanced  any 
one,  it  must  have  the  right  to  command  polygamy.  And,  generally, 
this  was  the  first  command  to  an  ambitious  son. 

That  Malcolm  felt  ambition  stirring  was  evident.  How  eagerly  he 
would  listen  as  his  uncle  told  some  incident  in  his  own  life !  —  told  it 
so  well,  that,  while  his  auditors  were  surprised  at  the  power  of  Mor- 
monism,  there  never  seemed  any  egotism  in  it.  These  topics  he 
generally  discussed  the  rare  evenings  he  found  Malcolm  at  home. 

He  would  speak  of  the  reclaiming  of  the  desert,  the  advance  of 
the  State,  the  mighty  force  which  held  together  this  people  of  different 
nationalities,  alluding  lightly  to  polygamy. 


1 82  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

Malcolm,  with  eyes  fixed  on  space,  listened  to  the  tempter.  Yet 
so  well  did  John  Smith  handle  his  subject  and  his  listeners,  that  he 
seemed  speaking  but  his  honest  convictions.  Neither  imagined  that 
his  motive-power  was  the  hope  of  modifying  and  debasing  the  earnest 
principles  of  a  noble  character.  Neither  imagined  that  to  his  creed 
he  was  striving  to  convert  a  woman.  John  Smith's  able  dissertations 
never  awakened  discussion.  Malcolm  lacked  ability,  even  if  he  had 
the  will,  to  combat  his  uncle's  views. 

And  how  could  Christine  speak  against  the  moral  teachings  of  a 
church  that  counselled  polygamy,  when  she  must  proclaim  its  sinful- 
ness  to  this  uncle  married  to  three  wives  ?  His  kindness  to  her 
surely  was  an  index  of  his  treatment  of  them.  Thus  would  she  be 
forced  into  stillness  ;  but,  all  the  while,  she  would  keep  her  lovely 
eyes  on  Malcolm's  face,  and  from  her  heart  would  rise  the  prayer, 
"  Lord,  hold  him  true  to  himself." 

She  did  not  know  John  Smith  was  looking  at  her,  trying  to  read 
her  inmost  thoughts,  and  puzzled  that  her  face  should  wear  this  holy 
calm  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  attacking  the  bulwark  of  her 
happiness.  He  who  could  play  at  will  with  human  passions,  and  make 
the  entranced  crowd  do  his  bidding,  was  nonplussed  by  a  woman's 
face.  It  was  not  given  him  to  understand,  that,  while  his  eloquent 
words  were  nerving  the  arm  of  her  husband  for  her  death-blow,  Chris 
tine  was  praying  for  that  husband,  and  even  for  him. 

She  was  thinking  of  these  discourses  this  evening  while  dressing, 
and  felt  thankful,  spite  of  temptation,  that  Malcolm  had  kept  true  to 
his  oath.  She  was  thinking  a  little  of  John  Smith,  wondering  how 
so  intelligent  and  gifted  a  man  could  believe  in  a  faith  whose  teachings 
were  insults  to  modesty  and  morality,  —  a  faith  that  encouraged  man's 
basest  passions,  and  made  of  women,  not  helpmeets,  but  slaves.  She 
did  not  for  a  moment  doubt  his  sincerity  :  she  only  marvelled  how  it 
was  possible  for  him  to  believe  as  he  professed.  And  then,  looking  at 


THE  FALLEN  MASK.  183 

herself  in  the  mirror,  she  hoped  she  would  please  Malcolm.  With  the 
hope,  a  soft  flush  came  into  the  cheeks  that  had  grown  so  very  pale  ; 
and  then,  every  moment  listening  for  his  footstep,  she  waited,  — 
waited  until  her  heart  beat  nervously ;  and  still  he  did  not  come. 
Presently  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  a  hurried  little  note  from  Mal 
colm  :  — 

"  DEAR  CHRISTINE,  —  Don't  wait  dinner  for  me.  I  will  be  detained  until  a  late 
hour,  perhaps  until  after  midnight.  We  have  a  good  deal  to  look  after  to-night. 
Don't  be  worried:  I  am  all  right. 

"  Yours, 

"  MALCOLM. 

"  My  uncle  has  stopped  in  to  see  me  for  a  moment,  and,  at  my  invitation,  will 
dine  with  you  ;  so  you  won't  be  lonesome." 

"  So  you  won't  be  lonesome  !  "  The  flush  faded  from  her  cheeks, 
and  the  tears  came  back  to  her  eyes.  But,  at  John  Smith's  step  near 
the  door,  the  tears  were  brushed  away ;  and  the  suspicion  of  them  only 
gave  additional  lustre  to  the  large  dark  eyes  raised  to  greet  him.  He 
gazed  into  their  sad  depths,  and  would  have  perilled  all  his  life's  gains 
to  have  had  them  once  look  thus  for  him. 

When  he  gently  took  her  hand,  he  was  fancying  what  would  be  the 
result  if  he  drew  her  to  his  breast,  and  let  the  pent-up  torrent  of  his 
fiery  love  sweep  over  her. 

What  would  be  the  result  ?  He  read  it  in  the  pure,  pale  face,  the 
eyes  looking  trustfully  at  him.  He  was  not  yet  mad  enough  to  en 
tirely  shut  himself  out  from  the  little  gleam  of  heaven  that  came  to 
him  each  time  he  looked  on  her.  And  so  they  walked  into  the  little 
dining-room,  where  the  table  was  spread  for  two. 


1 84 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

A    TRAGEDY. 

E  placed  her  chair,  and  then   took  his  own,   say 
ing, — 

"  I  saw  Malcolm  for  a  moment,  and  he  asked 
me  to  be  his  substitute.  A  poor  one,  my  dear, 
but  perhaps  a  little  better  than  dining  alone :  and 
then,  I,  too,  was  left  alone ;  for  Mrs.  Smith  has 
gone  out  of  town  for  a  few  days." 

A  vague  wonder  often  came  to  Christine  when 
he  spoke  of  "  Mrs.  Smith."  Which  Mrs.  Smith 
did  he  mean  ?  or  did  he  mean  all  three  ?  The 
latter  now,  she  supposed ;  for  he  spoke  of  being 
alone.  He  sighed  when  he  said  it.  Perhaps  he  felt  a  little  depressed. 
And  Christine  tried  to  put  aside  her  sad  thoughts,  and  show  him  some 
return  for  his  many  kindnesses. 

During  the  dinner  he  was  as  agreeable  as  it  was  possible  for  man 
to  be.  He  told  incidents  of  travel,  and  foreign  people, — anecdotes 
full  of  point  and  spirit  ;  unselfishly  trying  to  forget  his  depression,  so 
Christine  thought,  and  was  grateful  to  him.  Then  when  the  meal  was 
over,  and  they  were  seated  in  the  cosey  parlor,  he  entered  the  world  of 
authors. 

He  was  a  lover  of  Shakspeare.  He  had  studied  that  king  of 
writers,  and  quoted  passage  after  passage  to  his  fascinated  listener. 
Shakspeare  was  Matthew's  favorite  book.  He  and  Christine  would 


A    TRAGEDY. 


often  read  it  together,  and  wonder  at  this  master  mind.  But  never 
before  had  his  power  so  awed  her  as  now,  when  the  gems  of  his 
thoughts,  in  clear,  correct  expression,  fell  like  priceless  jewels  from 
the  lips  of  John  Smith. 

He  was  quoting  from  "  Othello."     As  the  passionate  words  came 
into  being,  there  seemed  no  longer  a  friend  and  uncle  near  her,  but  a 


HE    PLACED    HER   CHAIR." 


tortured  human  heart,  whose  very  strength  made  its  weakness.  John 
Smith  paused  ;  and  Christine,  with  a  deep  breath,  came  back  to  reality. 

He  had  not  lost  one  fleeting  expression  of  the  sensitive  face,  and 
stopped  thus  suddenly,  for  he  felt  a  madness  creeping  over  him,  the 
wild  jealousy  of  Othello,  to  kill  this  beauteous  Desdemona. 

Just  then  the  little  clock  struck  seven. 

"  Christine,"  —  how  calmly  he  could   speak,  while    even   yet  that 


1 86  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

frantic  impulse  was  firing  his  brain  !  —  "  you  have  never  been  in  a 
theatre  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  ?  " 

The  large  eyes  were  glistening  with  the  past  excitement.  The 
charm  of  the  great  Shakspeare  was  still  upon  her.  She  did  not  an 
swer,  but  seemed  thinking  it  over.  He  spoke  again  :  — 

"  Would  you  disapprove  of  going,  or  would  Matthew  ?  " 

This  was  the  question  she  had  been  turning  over  in  her  mind. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  would  object,"  she  slowly  said.  "  He  ever 
taught  me  that  pleasures  were  not  wrong,  but  blessed  favors,  except 
those  pleasures  that  may  be  sin  for  us,  or  make  sin  for  others." 

"  O  sweetest  saint !  "  cried  out  John  Smith's  heart.  "  Would  that 
I  were  greater  saint,  or  thou  wert  greater  sinner ! " 

But  with  his  lips  he  spoke  not.  He  was  waiting  to  see  how  she 
would  reason  out  this  new  matter.  She,  too,  was  for  a  moment  silent. 
Then  turning  to  him  with  a  smile,  and  extending  her  hand  in  gentlest 
entreaty,  she  said,  — 

"  Forgive  my  moment's  doubt  of  you.  You  would  not  take  me 
to  a  wrong  place." 

Not  take  her  to  a  wrong  place  !  At  that  very  instant,  standing 
quietly  near  her,  and  gently  holding  the  delicate  hand,  he  would  have 
thrown  his  arms  around  her,  and  taken  her  to  a  yawning  hell. 

Any 'where •,  so  she  was  with  him  !  Yet  he  only  smiled  in  answer  to 
her,  and  said  quietly,  — 

"The  play  to-night  is  the  one  we  were  just  reading,  —  'Othello.' 
A  great  tragedian  from  the  East  is  here  with  his  own  company.  You 
would  enjoy  it.  And  "  —  seeing  her  eyes  turn  to  the  clock  —  "  you 
will  be  back  long  before  midnight,  so  you  will  be  here  to  welcome 
Malcolm.  We  have  just  time,"  he  added.  "  Put  on  your  hat,  and  come 
as  you  are." 


A    TRAGEDY.  187 

Mr.  Smith's  carriage  was  at  the  door  ;  and,  in  a  few  moments,  they 
reached  the  theatre. 

It  was  like  a  troubled  dream  to  Christine,  —  the  crowded  lobby, 
the  glittering  lights,  the  pushing  and  confusion.  But,  with  the  ease 
of  one  accustomed  to  crowds,  Mr.  Smith,  giving  her  his  arm,  led  her 
into  the  theatre.  Here  was  more  quiet  ;  and,  the  lights  being  low, 
Christine  had  a  few  moments  to  regain  composure.  Mr.  Smith  had 
secured  the  box  to  the  right  of  the  stage.  It  would  be  more  comfor 
table  for  her,  he  said,  than  those  crowded  seats. 

After  a  little  the  orchestra  entered  ;  and,  with  a  flash,  the  theatre 
was  ablaze  with  light. 

"  Look  at  the  people,  Christine,  now,  before  the  play  begins.  Since 
you  have  never  been  in  a  theatre,  the  audience  is  something  to  see." 

He  pushed  aside  the  heavy  curtain  ;  and  for  a  moment  she  leaned 
forward,  looking  at  a  sea  of  human  faces,  rising  tier  above  tier,  every 
space  filled  with  a  bit  of  humanity.  It  gave  her  a  curious  sensation, 
thus  opposing  her  two  eyes  to  the  thousands  that  seemed  gazing  at 
her.  Every  thing  was  bright  beyond  her  power  of  endurance  ;  and 
she  leaned  back  as  the  curtain  fell  again  to  its  place,  noticing,  as  she 
did  so,  that  the  box  opposite  theirs  was  dark  and  untenanted. 

After  the  invariable  squeak,  squeak,  of  orchestral  preparation,  the 
music  began. 

It  was  good  music  ;  and  Christine  shielded  her  eyes  with  her  hand 
while  she  listened,  the  tears  were  so  very  near  those  eyes  to-night. 
She  was  ashamed  of  her  weakness  ;  but  this  music  unnerved  her,  and 
made  her  think  of  Malcolm. 

"  Did  he  seem  quite  well  when  you  saw  him  to-day  ?  "  she  asked, 
leaning  towards  John  Smith,  who  was  sitting  a  little  back  in  the  box, 
where  he  could  see,  neither  stage  nor  audience,  only  her  face. 

"  Did  who  seem  well  ?  "  He,  too,  had  been  in  a  reverie  ;  and  she 
had  startled  him. 


1 88  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Malcolm,"  she  answered  simply. 

"  Perfectly  well.     I  never  saw  him  look  better." 

She  was  relieved  of  that  fear  ;  and  now  the  curtain  went  up,  and 
Christine's  whole  interest  was  absorbed  on  the  stage. 

When  the  gentle,  timid  Desdemona  bravely  spoke  her  love  before 
the  great  council,  Christine's  heart  beat  in  unison  with  hers  ;  and  as 
the  play  progressed,  and  lago's  poison  stung  to  death  Othello's  noble 
nature,  she  murmured,  — 

"  I  would  rather  be  the  doubted,  injured  Desdemona  than  Othello. 
Life  must  be  bitter  indeed  to  him  who  injures  what  he  loves." 

The  curtain  rose  and  fell  ;  the  players  came  and  went  ;  and, 
except  those  few  words,  Christine  seemed  lost  to  every  thing  but  the 
scenes  before  her.  Her  face  expressed  each  hope,  fear,  and  dread 
of  the  hapless  wife.  And  not  until  the  death-scene,  when  Othello, 
crazed  with  jealousy,  smothers  his  faithful  love,  did  Christine  look 
away  from  the  too  real  acting. 

She  turned  with  a  shudder  ;  and,  as  she  did  so,  a  face  in  the  oppo 
site  box  caught  her  passing  glance,  and  blotted  out  every  thing  else. 

It  was  Malcolm  !  Malcolm  in  his  beauty  and  tenderness,  —  the 
Malcolm  of  only  six  months  ago.  Thus  he  looked  at  her  as  they  stood 
under  the  apple-tree.  Thus  he  leaned  towards  her,  till  the  brightness 
of  his  golden  hair  had  mingled  with  her  own.  She  could  almost  feel 
it  at  this  instant,  and  his  warm  breath  on  her  cheek  ! 

And  now  !     O  Lord,  O  Lord  !  have  pity  on  this  woman  ! 

He,  her  husband,  was  giving  all  this  to  another  !  A  fair,  rosy  face, 
a  very  much  bedecked  young  creature,  was  smiling  at  him,  coquetting 
with  him,  taking  all  his  tenderness  as  her  due. 

Did  she  know  that  man  was  married  ?  Did  she  not  feel  his  wife 
looking  at  her  ?  Was  it  a  cruel  dream  ?  Christine  pressed  her  fingers 
to  her  eyes,  and  looked  again.  There  he  sat,  laughing  and  happy,  in 
the  full  glare  of  the  gas  that  lit  up  the  box.  Just  then  he  was  taking 


A    TRAGEDY. 


189 


one  of  the  girl's  hands  from  the  flowers  she  was  holding,  and  he  kept 
it  in  his  own.  They  seemed  to  feel  that  this  earth  held  but  them,  and 
the  pretty  comedy  they  were  playing,  —  a  comedy  that  was  giving  the 
death-wound  to  a  strong,  true  heart  ! 

With  face  turned  ashen  white,  features  drawn  in  agony,  and  eyes 


THE    PRETTY    COMEDY    THEY    WERE    PLAYING. 


so  large,  so  piteous,  Christine's  world  had  narrowed  down  to  those  two 
laughing  figures  before  her. 

Looking  at  her,  holding  himself  in  terrible  check,  John  Smith 
stood  forgotten. 

She  seemed  like  one  who  had  been  turned  to  stone  by  some  great 
sorrow.  She  did  not  move  :  she  hardly  breathed.  He  was  watching 
to  see  this  sorrow  change  to  wounded  love  and  anger.  But  no : 


1 90  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

she  leaned  forward,  motionless,  unchanging.  He  touched  her  hand. 
It  was  as  cold  as  ice.  Alarmed,  not  knowing  what  might  happen  to 
her,  for  each  instant  the  red  line  of  her  compressed  lips  grew  paler 
and  paler,  he  put  his  arm  through  hers,  and  raised  her  to  her  feet. 

"  Christine,  let  us  go,"  he  whispered. 

Not  answering,  not  seeming  to  see  him.  Only  by  a  weak,  uncer 
tain  movement,  as  if  turning  to  go,  did  he  know  she  had  heard  him. 
Tenderly  he  helped  her  to  the  carriage.  Tenderly  he  drew  the  warm 
robe  over  her.  And  yet,  loving  her  to  madness,  he  it  was  that  had 
bared  her  bosom  to  this  blow. 

Before  him  came  in  character  of  flame  her  gentle  words,  — 

"  Life  must  be  bitter  indeed  to  him  who  injures  what  he  loves." 

He  was  beginning  to  taste  that  bitterness,  as  he  looked  at  the 
pale,  cold  ghost  of  the  woman,  who,  a  short  hour  ago,  had  been  filled 
with  gracious,  graceful  life. 

What  had  he  hoped  to  gain,  he  madly  asked  himself.  Did  he  sup 
pose  wounded  love  and  pride  would  make  her  seek  refuge  in  the  arms 
he  would  hold  out  to  her,  —  those  arms  so  loving  to  her,  so  strong 
to  crush  him  who  had  slighted  and  insulted  her  ?  Did  he  expect  any 
thing  from  her  like  another  woman  ? 

"  Fool,  fool !  "  he  called  himself  a  thousand  times  as  he  sat  looking 
at  her  motionless  figure. 

They  reached  her  door.  She  held  out  her  hand,  and  tried  to 
speak  good-night.  No  words  came,  only  a  gasping  breath.  And, 
with  that  frozen  look  of  piteous  woe  on  her  face,  she  was  passing 
away  from  him,  into  the  dark  and  silent  house.  He  could  not  have 
it  so. 

"Christine," — and  he  caught  the  ice-cold  hand  in  his,  detaining 
her,  —  "  if  there  is  any  thing  under  heaven  that  your  father  might  do 
for  you,  tell  me,  and  it  shall  be  done  ;  for  no  father  could  love  you 
more  tenderly  than  I." 


A    TRAGEDY,  191 

He  spoke  so  gently,  and  looked  so  true,  that  the  poor  girl  tried  to 
make  some  answer.  She  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  again  only  a 
gasping  sob  came  forth.  And  then,  to  show  her  thankfulness  to  this 
good  uncle,  she  pressed  her  lips  to  his  hand,  and,  closing  the  door  after 
her,  vanished  from  his  sight. 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments,  half  tempted  to  break  down  this 
slight  wooden  barrier,  and  be  near  her.  If  that  would  have  really 
brought  him  near  her,  he  would  have  broken  it  into  fragments.  But 
he  knew  too  well  the  woman  he  loved.  He  dared  not  remain  longer  ; 
for  his  coachman  was  watching  him,  and  doubtless  wondering  at  his 
delay.  John  Smith  understood  human  nature  too  well  to  look  upon 
servants  as  machines.  He  knew  them  as  severe  and  often  just  critics 
of  those  who  paid  their  wages,  and  he  took  care  not  to  give  his  a 
chance  to  criticise  him.  Even  now,  in  the  midst  of  the  storm  of  pas 
sion,  remembering  the  man  on  the  box  waiting  for  him,  he  took  out 
his  watch  as  if  marking  the  hour,  then  came  leisurely  down  the  steps, 
stopped  on  the  sidewalk  as  if  deliberating,  again  took  out  the  watch, 
and  then  saying,  "Well,  James,  I  think  we'd  better  drive  home.  It 
is  rather  too  late  for  the  office,"  stepped  slowly  into  the  carriage,  and 
pulled  the  door  to  with  a  snap.  And  James,  touching  the  whip  to  the 
horses,  said,  as  if  to  some  one  near,  — 

"  Well,  I  never  !  He's  a  cool  one  !  From  the  way  he  was  bowing 
over  her  pretty  hand,  I  thought  he  felt  something  ;  but  it's  no  more 
to  him  than  saying  good-night  to  one  of  his  own  old  ladies." 

"  A  cool  one  ! "  Most  astute  James  !  You  are  all  wrong  this 
time.  A  seething  caldron  was  more  calm  and  cool  than  this  man's 
brain. 

Reaching  his  home,  he  said  good-night  to  his  coachman.  Civility 
to  servants  being  one  of  his  minor  rules,  even  now  he  did  not  depart 
from  it.  Seeing  no  light  from  any  window  but  his  own,  he  walked 
quickly  up-stairs,  and  closed  the  door. 


192  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

What  would  she  do  ?  What  would  come  of  this  ?  Would  Malcolm 
reach  home,  and,  after  a  lovers'  quarrel,  would  they  make  it  up  again  ? 
No  :  there  could  be  no  quarrelling  with  Christine.  In  her  face  there 
had  not  been  one  trace  of  anger. 

He  who  had  travelled  the  world  over,  and  had  seen  the  greatest 
masters'  greatest  works,  who  had  stopped  spellbound  before  the  sor 
rowful  face  of  the  Mater  Dolorosa,  had  never  beheld  such  sorrow  as 
in  that  woman's  face  to-night. 

"  If  there  were  a  God  and  a  heaven,  I  should  think  her  an  angel 
grieving  for  a  lost  soul." 

Was  there  a  God,  an  all-powerful  being  ?  The  doubt  of  what  he 
had  long  ago  taught  himself  as  certainty  made  him  pause  an  instant. 
Then,  holding  up  his  hand  as  if  taking  a  solemn  oath,  he  spoke  aloud. 
"  If,  in  the  universe,  there  is  a  Supreme  Power,  give  me  but  Christine, 
and  I  will  be  its  slave." 

He  stopped  and  listened. 

No  sound  but  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  the  softened  murmur  of  a 
city's  breathing,  and  the  heavy  beatings  of  his  heart.  This  heart, 
burning  with  passion,  seemed  about  to  burst  the  iron  frame  incas 
ing  it. 

"  Fool,  fool !  "  He  laughed  in  bitter  scorn  at  his  own  weakness, 
and,  dashing  from  his  brow  the  heavy  beads  of  sweat,  leaned  out  in 
the  cold  night-air. 

It  was  December,  and  very  cold  ;  but  he  seemed  suffocating.  Tear 
ing  open  his  collar,  while  every  object  whirled  before  his  blood-shot 
eyes,  he  clutched  for  support  at  the  window-sill  as  he  fell  panting 
beside  it. 

Where  was  all  his  greatness  now  ?     Where  his  vaunted  strength  ? 

A  child  crying  for  the  moon  was  not  weaker  than  he.  Tears,  actu 
ally  tears,  were  in  his  burning  eyes,  that  for  years  had  looked  calmly 
on  a  people's  degradation.  He  who  had  supported  laws  that  lower 


A    TRAGEDY.  193 

humanity,  who  had  gone  into  distant  lands,  and  hurried  thousands  to 
their  own  despair,  without  one  pitying  throb  of  the  calm,  cool  heart, 
the  machine  of  his  magnificent  physique,  he  now  was  grovelling  in  the 
dust  because  of  one  weak  woman. 


194 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

INJURY    REQUITED. 

ND  she  ?     Closing  the  door,  she  fell  as  one  dead. 

The  little  maid,  who  had  been  waiting  up  for  her 
gentle  mistress,  was  enjoying  a  doze.  Startled  by 
the  closing  door,  she  awakened,  and,  putting  down 
the  pictures  she  held  in  her  hand,  ran  to  open  the 
door  leading  to  the  hall,  expecting  to  see  Christine. 
The  hall  was  dark  and  perfectly  still. 

"  Was  I  dreaming  ?  "  said  Maggie.     Then,  going 
back  into  the  bright  little  sitting-room,  she  brought 
out  a  light,  and  screamed  with  fright  when  she  saw 
Christine  lying  on  the  floor,  apparently  dead. 

Her  scream  called  to  her  aid  the  cook,  who  came  as  quickly  as  she 
could ;  and  together,  raising  Christine,  they  laid  her  on  the  lounge. 

"Is  she  dead?  Shall  I  go  for  a  doctor?"  whispered  the  sobbing 
Maggie. 

"  Sure,  don't  be  a  goose.  She's  fainted.  It's  her  condition.  I'm 
a  married  woman,  and  I  know."  And  then,  all  the  while  busied  with 
the  insensible  form  before  her,  she  related  the  experiences  of  herself 
and  half-dozen  friends  to  Maggie,  who  was  crying  bitterly. 

Finally  they  had  Christine's  dress  changed  for  a  long,  loose  wrapper 
of  white  cashmere.  This  had  always  been  Maggie's  admiration. 

"  She  looks  like  an  angel  in  it,  and  may  be  one  sooner  than  we 
think,"  she  sobbed,  as  the  cook  said,  — 


INJURY  REQUITED.  195 

"  Not  that  fussy  thing.     Just  a  night-dress,  you  goose  ! " 

But  Maggie  still  held  out  the  robe  ;  and,  as  Christine's  prolonged 
faint  was  making  her  nervous,  Sallie  dexterously  slipped  it  over  the 
deathlike  figure,  and  began  more  vigorously  to  rub  and  shake  her. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  her  husband  would  come,  and  see  for 
himself  he  is  breaking  her  heart.  Though  she  don't  never  complain, 
it's  easy  enough  to  see.  Just  six  months  married,  and  she  to  be  a 
mother  before  six  months  more."  Still  rubbing  and  shaking,  and  still 
no  signs  of  life. 

"Maggie,"  Sallie  said  at  last,  "I  do  believe  she  is  dead."  And 
she,  too,  began  to  cry. 

But  Christine  was  not  dead.  For  her  the  merciful  sleep  had  not 
begun.  And  when  Maggie,  with  wild  screams,  threw  herself  upon 
her  mistress  as  the  hopeful  Sallie  gave  her  up,  Christine  stirred, 
opened  her  eyes,  and  said,  — 

"  I  heard  some  one  cry  as  if  in  pain." 

"  It  was  me,  mum,"  answered  the  now  delighted  Maggie. 

"  Are  you  sick,  my  child  ?  "  Christine  asked  in  a  weak  voice.  Then 
seeing,  bended  over  her,  both  Maggie  and  Sallie,  with  tears  still  on 
their  faces,  it  returned  slowly  to  her  that  she  had  been  the  one  in  pain. 
And  such  pain  !  It  all  came  back  to  her  now.  Even  each  detail  of 
the  woman's  dress,  and  every  clustering  curl  on  Malcolm's  bright  head, 
as  he  leaned  towards  her. 

She  tried  to  rise,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not  Sallie's  strong  arm 
caught  her. 

"  Sure,  mum,  you're  too  weak.  Just  drink  a  bit  of  this."  And  she 
put  to  her  lips  a  cup  of  strong  coffee,  which  Maggie,  with  whispered 
directions,  had  found  tucked  away  in  the  kitchen-closet. 

Christine  turned  away  her  head. 

"  Mum,  for  the  child's  sake,"  Sallie  said. 

For  the  child's  sake  !     Most  eloquent  and  potent  pleader.     If  all 


196  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

the  rhetoric  of  the  world  had  been  at  Sallie's  command,  she  could 
never  have  made  so  powerful  an  argument.  For  that  precious  life 
within  her  own  !  What  would  she  not  do  for  its  sake  ?  So  she  drank 
the  coffee,  and  ate  a  little,  while  her  heart  was  full  of  woe. 

"  What  time  is  it,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Three  o'clock,  mum." 

"  And  you  are  both  up,  waiting  on  me  !  I  thank  you  for  your  kind 
ness,  and  I  am  sorry  to  have  given  so  much  trouble,"  she  gently  said. 
"  And  now,  please  go  to  bed,  and  try  to  sleep." 

"  Oh,  please,  mum,  let  me  stay  up  till  you're  asleep  !  Please  let 
me  just  comb  out  your  hair.  Sallie  pulled  it  down  when  she  was 
a-bathing  your  head.  And  indeed,  mum,"  Maggie  whispered,  as 
Sallie's  head  disappeared  in  the  hall,  "  I'm  afraid  we've  spoiled  your 
pretty  dress  with  all  the  water  we  spilled  on  it." 

"  No  matter,"  answered  Christine.  "  But  go  now  to  bed.  I  would 
rather  be  alone." 

And  alone  she  was  with  her  sorrow. 

John  Smith  was  right.  She  did  not  feel  a  trace  of  anger.  That 
she  was  slighted  and  insulted  did  not  seem  to  enter  her  thoughts. 
All  her  pain  was,  that  he  was  false.  And  this  conviction,  like  a  sea 
of  woe,  covered,  in  its  black  depths,  every  bright  hope  of  her  life. 
Love  and  trust  forever  buried  under  its  cruel  waves,  she  did  not  ques 
tion  what  the  future  would  be.  She  was  like  one  turned  into  stone 
by  the  great,  the  ever  present,  certainty  of  his  untruth. 

Through  the  long,  silent  hours,  and  the  morning's  wakening  bustle, 
she  still  sat  where  the  maids  had  left  her.  She  did  not  notice  that  the 
sunlight  was  streaming  in  the  half-closed  shutters,  and  lay  in  broad 
bands  over  the  floor,  marking  the  growing  day.  She  did  not  know 
that  many  times  Maggie's  head,  and  Sallie's  too,  had  been  peeping  in 
the  door,  with  tear-filled  eyes  of  sympathy.  To  see  her  thus,  her  hus 
band  still  away,  they  knew  some  great  grief  had  befallen  her. 


INJURY  REQUITED. 


197 


"  Perhaps  he's  been  sent  off  on  a  mission,"  suggested  Maggie. 

"  More  like  he's  going  to  take  another  wife,  and  she's  breaking  her 
heart,"  answered  Sallie,  who  had  had  her  own  troubles  on  this  score. 
"  Poor  thing,  poor  thing  !  "  she  added,  shaking  her  head.  "  He's  a 
brute,  or  he'd  waited  till  after  the  baby  came.  She  must  eat,  or  she'll 


"  AFTER    A    LITTLE,   SHE    RETURNED    WITH    A   TRAY." 

die,"  continued  the  kind-hearted  woman,  and  then  hurried  off  to  the 
kitchen  to  make  some  toast  and  tea. 

After  a  little,  she  returned  with  a  tray  neatly  arranged,  and  went 
towards  the  sorrow-stricken  woman.  She  spoke  to  her,  but  received 
no  answer.  Then,  putting  down  the  tray,  she  knelt  at  her  feet,  and 
taking  the  two  cold  hands  between  her  strong,  warm  ones,  began  to 
chafe  them  while  she  spoke. 


198  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Dear  lady,  look  up." 

Christine  raised  her  face,  and  looked  out  from  her  great,  sad  eyes, 
yet  looking  seemed  not  to  see. 

Poor  Sallie  had  never  heard  of  grief  like  this,  and  began  to  sob 
and  cry  out  of  pure  pity.  But  she,  who  had  had  in  this  very  city  the 
mother's  sorrowful  experience,  spoke  to  the  mother's  heart. 

"  Listen,  deary,"  she  said.  "  Don't  take  on  so,  or  you'll  perhaps 
injure  the  poor  baby  you  will  have  before  many  months.  It  cannot 
help  its  coming,  poor  thing  !  and  its  life  may  not  be  so  bad,  with  a 
dear,  strong  mother  to  take  care  of  it,  and  teach  it  right.  But,  if  you 
take  on  so  now,  you  might  injure  it  for  life." 

At  her  words,  a  gasping  sob  shook  the  poor  girl. 

"  The  child  that  was  coming  !  "     God  pity  it !     God  help  it  ! 

While  Sallie  was  in  vain  seeking  to  calm  Christine's  terrible  agita 
tion,  the  door-bell  rang. 

Maggie  running  to  it,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Malcolm,  found  Mr. 
John  Smith. 

After  a  night  such  as  he  had  never  known,  he  had  so  controlled  all 
outward  signs  of  the  agony  he  had  endured,  as  to  take  his  accustomed 
place  at  table,  and  pay  his  accustomed  courtesies  to  the  three  Mrs. 
Smiths.  Mrs.  Smith  No.  i  remarked  he  looked  pale.  He  had  a  slight 
headache,  he  answered. 

"  You  have  been  overworking  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  and  then  busied  himself  with  the  little 
cares  of  the  table. 

He  spoke  to  each  with  his  usual  kindness,  made  his  usual  inquiries 
of  each  ;  and,  while  he  felt  as  if  every  instant  were  an  hour  of  torture, 
he  did  not  show  the  slightest  haste  or  impatience.  When,  at  last,  the 
frightful  meal  was  over,  he  stood  a  few  moments,  chatting  pleasantly 
with  his  wives,  as  if  to  try  his  own  strength,  and  see  how  long  he 
dared  trifle  with  the  raging  storm  within. 


INJURY  REQUITED.  199 

Once  in  the  street,  he  hailed  a  passing  carriage,  and  shortly  dis 
missed  it  a  few  doors  from  Christine's  house.  He  had  hardly  touched 
the  bell  when  the  door  flew  open  ;  and  while  those  terrible,  gasping 
sobs  smote  on  his  heart,  Maggie  told  him  all  she  knew  of  what  had 
happened. 

"  We  found  her  like  dead  on  the  floor,"  she  said  ;  "  and  then  Sallie 
put  on  a  wrapper,  and  we  rubbed  and  bathed  her  until  Sallie  said  she 
was  dead.  And  then  I  screamed  and  screamed,  and  fell  a-kissing  her ; 
for  I  loved  her,  and  the  dead  don't  know.  But,  O  sir  !  she  was  not 
dead,  but  opened  those  great  dark  eyes  so  sorrowful-like  for  calling 
her  back  to  life.  And  then  she  made  us  go  to  bed.  And,  when  we 
came  down  this  morning,  we  found  her  sitting  just  where  we  had  left 
her,  and  looking  for  all  the  world  as  if  she  was  stone.  And  then 
Sallie  said  she  must  eat.  So  she  began  to  talk  of  the  baby  that  she 
says  is  to  come  in  three  months,  and  then  those  terrible  sobs  began  ; 
and  we  believe  she  is  going  to  die  at  any  rate.  And  Mr.  Malcolm,  he 
ain't  never  come  home." 

Maggie  had  been  crying  and  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 
and  now  stood  holding  on  to  John  Smith  while  she  poured  forth  her 
story.  She  still  clung  to  him,  not  knowing  what  she  was  doing  ;  for 
she  was  so  grieved  about  her  dear  mistress.  It  was  not  until  he  put 
away  her  hand  that  she  knew  she  had  been  so  near  the  awful  Mr. 
Smith. 

At  the  sitting-room  door  he  paused,  and  looked  at  the  woman  he 
loved.  She  was  sitting  in  a  large  chair,  her  body  bent  forward,  and 
her  head  resting  on  Sallie's  breast ;  the  dark  hair  concealing  her  face, 
and  falling  like  a  mantle  of  night  over  the  snowy  robe  lying  in  grace 
ful  folds  around  her  ;  the  fearful,  gasping  sobs  shaking  her  frame,  and 
even  stirring  the  strong,  ruddy  woman  kneeling  at  her  side,  whose 
coarse  red  arms  were  holding  Christine  to  her  honest  heart. 

Only  her  cook  !     But    a  woman,  good   and   true,  who   had   tasted 


200  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

sorrow,  and  whose  tears  fell  thick  and  fast  at  the  grief  of  this  sister- 
woman. 

Standing  an  instant  at  the  door,  madly  jealous  even  of  Sallie,  yet, 
through  all  his  passion  and  pain,  having  a  consciousness  of  the  ex 
treme  grace  of  the  drooping  figure  in  white,  and  a  desire  to  see  her 
face.  Then,  with  a  step,  he  was  at  her  side.  Dismissing  the  weep 
ing  women,  he  took  the  slender  hands  in  his  as  he  knelt  in  Sallie's 
place. 

Would  she  put  her  head  on  his  breast,  —  he  who  never  before  had 
knelt  at  human  feet  ?  His  very  breath  ceased  in  the  half-second  of 
expectancy. 

No.  She  leaned  her  head  back  on  the  chair,  showing  her  face, 
while  the  white  lace  fell  away  from  the  snowy  pillar  of  her  throat,  and 
the  gasping  sobs,  that  had  never  ceased,  at  every  instant  seemed  about 
to  rend  her  tender  bosom. 

How  grief-stricken,  yet  how  beautiful,  she  looked  to  him  !  He 
smoothed  the  soft  hands,  clasped  the  delicate  wrists,  talked  to  her  as 
a  father  to  his  child,  forced  a  few  spoonfuls  of  the  warm  tea  between 
her  teeth,  until  gradually,  gradually  the  sobs  -became  less  frequent,  less 
terrible  ;  and  softening  tears  rained  down  her  face,  falling  on  his  hands 
that  were  smoothing  hers. 

How  it  happened,  he  could  never  tell,  and  cursed  himself  a  thou 
sand  times  for  his  madness.  But  thus  close  to  her,  as  he  had  never 
before  been,  holding  her  hands,  feeling  her  soft  breath,  while  her  tears' 
slow  stream  fell  down  her  face,  and  bedewed  his  flesh,  his  passion,  like 
a  furious  lion,  tore  down  its  cage,  and  glared  triumphant.  The  hands 
that  were  soothing  hers  as  a  father,  caught  her  in  a  lover's  mad 
embrace,  and  crushed  her  to  his  bosom. 

"  Christine,  I  love  you  !  Leave  this  weak  and  shallow  creature, 
who  is  utterly  false  to  you.  Say  you  will  but  be  mine,  and,  sure  as 
there  is  law  in  any  land,  I  will  make  you  legally  so.  You  shall  be 


INJURY  REQUITED.  2OI 

made  free,  and  so  will  I,  from  the  false  ties  that  bind  us.  Our  mar 
riage  shall  be  recognized  everywhere  ;  and  you  shall  be  the  honored  of 
men,  as  you  are  the  mistress  of  my  soul.  For  you  I  will  do  deeds  so 
great,  so  noble,  that  they  will  raise  me  even  to  your  God  of  goodness. 
We  will  leave  Utah,  whose  institutions  revolt  your  purity.  We  will 
take  your  grandfather  and  friends,  and  make  a  home  wherever  you 
shall  will  ;  and  there,  in  that  home,  that  paradise,  you  shall  feel  what  a 
man  can  do  for  woman  like  you." 

In  the  paroxysm  of  intense  passion,  he  had  risen  to  his  feet,  rais 
ing  her  also ;  for  never  once  had  he  relaxed  his  fierce  embrace. 
Standing  thus,  with  her  bosom  pressed  close  to  his  own,  he  felt  her 
fluttering,  weak,  but  persistent  effort  to  release  herself.  Looking  into 
her  deathlike  face,  the  possible  effects  of  his  madness  came  over  him 
like  the  opening  of  a  tomb.  The  horrible  thought  that  she  was  dying, 
and  he  had  killed  her,  made  his  arms  drop  ;  and  she  was  free. 

Weak,  trembling,  clinging  for  strength  to  the  chair,  she  stood  a 
queen.  A  widowed  wife,  an  insulted  woman,  but  a  queen  in  the 
magnitude  of  her  purity  and  her  woes  ! 

Even  then,  with  his  love,  passion,  and  horror  full  upon  him,  he  was 
wondering  what  she  would  do,  so  different  was  she  always  from  any 
being  he  had  ever  imagined  could  exist.  Was  she  trying  to  summon 
that  faint  -breath  to  bid  him  leave  her  forever  as  a  coward,  and  insulter 
of  grieving  womanhood  ? 

He  could  endure  any  bitterness  from  her,  for  he  deserved  it.  If 
she  had  taken  a  knife,  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart,  he  would  not 
have  lifted  his  hand  to  prevent  the  blow.  He  felt  like  Satan  driven 
from  the  sight  of  God.  He  knew  he  could  never  more  look  on  her 
face,  and  this  pale  woman  was  the  only  god  he  worshipped.  His  full 
crime  against  her,  and  his  mad  love  for  her,  rose  before  him,  and 
drove  him  to  despair. 

She  raises  her  arms  :  the  loose  white  sleeves  fall  away,  showing  to 


2O2 


SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 


his  aching  eyes  their  perfect  loveliness.     Her  dark  eyes  open  wide,  as 
if  to  the  God  she  worships.     Her  lips  unclose.     His  heart  stops  beat 
ing.     Is   she  about  to  curse  him  ? 
A  faint  whisper  comes  :  — 

"  Lord,  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us, 


poor  sinners 


She  was  praying  for  him,  —  for 
him,  who  had  so  injured  her  ! 

As  the  faint  words  died  on  the 
air,  the  great  rush  of  mighty  waters 
came  in  her  ears,  the  deadly  faint- 
ness  again  overpowered  her  ;  and  be 
fore  he  could,  or  dared,  stretch  out 
his  arms  to  catch  her,  she  lay  at  his 
feet,  a  white  marvel  of  loveliness. 

"  O  angel !  O  saint !  "  he  whis 
pered,  kneeling  beside  her  uncon 
scious  body,  and  looking  at  her  as 
if  to  impress  on  his  heart  each 
charm  of  form  and  feature.  Then 
Maggie's  words,  "  for  the  dead  don't 
know,"  came  back  to  him.  He 
knew  that  never  again  in  life  could 
he  look  at  or  speak  to  her  ;  and  he 
stooped,  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  For  the  last  time,"  he  mur 
mured,  as  we  do  to  our  dead ;  and 
then  he  kissed  her  face,  brow,  lips.  "  Cold,  cold,  and  deathlike. 
Have  you  gone,  pure  spirit  ?  Is  there,  in  the  hereafter,  a  resting- 
place  for  such  as  thou  ?  Then,  pray  for  me  once  more,  most  lovely 
lips  !  Farewell,  farewell,  my  first,  my  last,  my  only  love  !  " 


"HAVE  MERCY  ON  us,  POOR  SINNERS !: 


INJURY  REQUITED.  203 

Again  and  again  he  kissed  her.  Then  placing  a  cushion  under 
her  head,  putting  on  his  hat,  and  pulling  it  down  to  conceal  his  face, 
he  summoned  Sallie. 

"  Your  mistress  has  fainted  again.  Attend  to  her,  and  send 
Maggie  for  a  doctor.  I  will  go  for  one  too.  But  there  must  be  more 
than  one  here.  This  is  something  serious." 

And  so  he  hurried  off,  his  step  brisk,  his  face  showing  but  little 
of  what  he  had  passed  through,  but  his  heart  full  of  despair.  He 
felt  like  a  man  who  had  seen  the  grave  close  over  all  he  cared  for  in 
the  world.  And  so  he  ever  felt. 

"  Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart." 

It  was  so  with  this  man.  Until  his  death  he  would  love  the  woman 
who  was  to  him  a  revelation  of  the  possibilities  of  human  nature. 
Yet  he  lived  the  same  life  he  had  led  before  he  met  her,  followed  the 
same  ambitions,  and  upheld  the  same  laws.  If,  for  her  sake,  he  did 
secret  acts  of  charity,  and  sometimes  mercifully  shielded  another 
woman,  it  was  between  him  and  the  silent,  watchful  Power  that  rules 
over  all. 

On  leaving  her,  he  hastened  to  send  a  doctor  :  then  he  went  to  his 
office,  and  thence  to  his  home.  His  friends  saw  no  difference  in  him  : 
his  wives  saw  no  change  in  him.  He  ever  treated  them  with  the  same 
kind  deference.  Yet,  during  the  next  few  days,  he  seemed  to  be 
moving,  speaking,  eating,  in  a  dream,  —  a  terrible  dream,  more  real 
than  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 

*********** 

On  hearing  from  the  doctors  that  Christine  was  out  of  danger,  and 
would  probably  soon  go  to  her  grandfather's,  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
leave  at  once  for  Washington. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  his  preparations  for  departure  one  morn 
ing,  when  Malcolm  called.  Mr.  Smith  had  conceived  a  hatred  for 
this  handsome,  shallow  nephew,  whom  he  used  to  like.  He  could 


204  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

hardly  endure  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  him,  yet  he  received  him 
civilly  enough. 

"  You  are  going  to  Washington,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Mr.  Smith  was  busy  looking  over  a  bundle  of  papers.  Malcolm 
waited  for  a  little,  and  hesitated,  moved  about  the  room,  and  finally 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  with  an  air  half-sulky,  half-determined.  He 
had  something  of  importance  to  say  to  this  uncle,  who  had  been  a 
sort  of  guardian  to  him  ;  supplying  his  wants  as  a  child,  and,  when 
arrived  at  man's  estate,  securing  for  him  a  fine  position  in  the  Mor 
mon  banking-house.  There  had  never  been  any  obedience  exacted 
from  him  ;  but  he  had  generally  consulted  Mr.  Smith  on  any  matters 
of  importance,  and  generally  found  him  of  great  help.  And  now 
while  Malcolm  was  very  full  of  some  subject,  and  showed  by  his  man 
ner  that  he  had  something  to  say,  his  uncle  seemed  to  feel  no  interest 
in  any  thing  beyond  that  bundle  of  papers,  over  which  he  was  bend 
ing  with  knitted  brows.  Tired  of  waiting  for  him  to  look  up,  Malcolm 
said,  — 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  be  surprised  to  learn  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  take  another  wife." 

"  You  have  ?    And  what  of  your  vow  ?  "    Still  busy  with  the  papers. 

"  Why,  uncle,  you  told  me  that  would  have  no  effect  in  Utah  !  and 
Utah  suits  me  well  enough  to  live  in." 

"  Perhaps,  sir,"  Mr.  Smith  answered  in  a  muffled  voice,  "  Utah 
may.be  lenient  to  the  breaking  of  vows  made  against  her  institutions. 
But  there  is  a  stronger  restraint  to  the  weakness  of  men  in  the  knowl 
edge  that  a  perjurer  can  never  be  looked  upon  as  a  gentleman ;  that 
no  man,  in  whom  there  is  a  remnant  of  manhood,  will  extend  to  him 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship." 

He  was  trembling  with  rage,  and  put  down  the  papers,  because 
their  shaking  betrayed  him. 


INJURY  REQUITED.  205 

Startled  and  confused,  Malcolm  knew  not  what  to  answer.  The 
uncle  who  had  laughed  at  his  vow  was  now  confronting  him  with 
scorn  for  breaking  it. 

He  had  had  a  "  scene  "  this  morning  with  Christine  ;  and  partly 
for  encouragement,  partly  to  ask  his  uncle  to  reason  with  her,  he  had 
called  at  his  office  ;  and,  instead  of  an  ally,  he  found  a  foe.  His  face 
darkened,  and  grew  dogged. 

John  Smith,  looking  at  him,  thinking  of  his  youth,  of  his  own 
evil  influence,  and,  more  than  all,  of  the  woman  he  loved,  whose  heart 
this  man  was  breaking,  stepped  nearer  to  him,  and  said,  more  kindly 
than  would  have  been  possible  had  not  Christine's  face,  as  he  last  saw 
it  in  her  deathlike  faint,  come  before  him,  — 

"  Malcolm,"  —  and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  nephew's  shoulder,  — 
"  keep  true  to  your  vow.  It  is  the  only  way  to  retain  your  own  and 
others'  respect.  I  am  rich,  and  have  some  power.  Only  keep  true 
to  this  vow  made  to  Christine,  and  I  will  pledge  myself  to  advance 
you  until  your  ambition  is  satisfied.  It  is  not  likely  I  shall  ever  have 
children ;  so  you  need  not  worry  about  the  future,  for  I  will  make  you 
and  your  children  my  heirs." 

The  young  man  hesitated  ;  and  his  uncle,  with  the  hand  still  on 
his  shoulder,  stood  watching  him.  Then  the  handsome  face  darkened, 
and  grew  dogged  again.  Taking  his  hand  from  his  shoulder,  John 
Smith  faced  this  poor  apology  for  manhood,  to  whom  nature  had  given 
the  beauty  of  a  sun-god. 

11  Be  true  to  your  vow,  and  I  will  keep  my  word.  You  shall  stand 
foremost  in  Utah." 

No  lightening  of  the  dogged  look  on  Malcolm's  face.  Then  John 
Smith,  in  tones  of  bitter  scorn,  — 

"  Break  this  vow,  and  never  again  claim  kinship  or  acquaintance 
with  me  ;  for,  if  I  met  you  at  the  gate  of  heaven,  I  would  not  recog 
nize  you.  I  cannot  consort  with  fteiyurers." 


206  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Well,"  said  Malcolm,  "  I  love  a  girl :  she  loves  me  ;  and  her  father, 
Mr.  Mellon,  is  very  rich,  as  you  know.  She's  willing  to  marry  me  if 
I  had  a  dozen  wives,  and  I  sha'n't  let  Christine's  whining  cant  come 
between  me  and  my  happiness." 

It  was  well  for  Malcolm  that  his  uncle  was  a  man  of  great  self- 
control  ;  for  at  this  instant,  while  he  was  standing  there  in  the  full 
brightness  of  his  beauty,  speaking  thus  of  Christine,  it  was  only  the 
iron  will  of  that  uncle  that  kept  him  from  clutching  at  the  handsome 
throat,  and  strangling  him.  He  never  knew  that  the  most  dangerous 
moment  of  his  life  was  when  he  stood  opposite  his  uncle,  who  was 
looking  at  him  in  quiet  scorn. 

"  You  have  made  up  your  mind  to  be  false  to  every  principle  of 
honor,  and  break  this  solemn  vow  ?  " 

"  Well,  I've  given  my  promise  to  the  girl,"  Malcolm  answered  half 
apologetically,  and  then  added  doggedly,  "  And  I  won't  go  back  on 
it.  Her  father  has  agreed  to  give  her  thirty  thousand  dollars  as  dowry." 

"  You  surely  are  not  in  need  of  money !  You  have  only  been  mar 
ried  six  months,  and  Matthew  did  not  let  his  child  go  to  you  portionless." 

"  A  few  thousands,"  Malcolm  answered  sneeringly. 

"  Malcolm,  have  you  spent  this  money  ?  " 

"That  is  my  own  affair,  Mr.  Smith." 

Disgusted,  and  angered  almost  beyond  endurance,  John  Smith  still 
held  himself  in  check. 

"  Malcolm,  give  up  this  notion,  and  I  will  settle  thirty  thousand 
dollars  on  your  first  child." 

"  It  is  not  a  notion,  Mr.  Smith.  I  guess  if  any  fellow  could  have 
a  pretty  girl,  with  a  nice  portion  to  do  with  as  he  chose,  he  wouldn't 
refuse.  Besides,  I've  promised  her ;  and  a  promise  to  one  is  as  good 
as  a  promise  to  another." 

John  Smith  clinched  his  teeth  to  keep  the  words  back.  After  a 
moment  he  said,  — 


INJURY  REQUITED.  207 

"  Have  you  told  your  wife  of  your  intentions  ?  " 

"  Yes."  And  here  Malcolm  grew  more  like  himself,  the  winning 
smile  coming  back  to  his  handsome  mouth.  "  And  I  came  here  to  see 
if  you  could  not  reason  with  her.  She  refuses  to  live  in  the  same 
town  with  me.  Says  she  will  go  back  to  her  grandfather.  That  she 
will  not  injure  her  unborn  child,  and  all  that  sort  of  cant." 

Again  John  Smith's  fingers  closed  convulsively  :  again  Malcolm's 
throat  was  in  danger. 

With  deepening  scorn  in  voice  and  eyes,  his  uncle  said,  — 

"  Sir,  I  cannot  reason  with  your  wife  on  a  subject  whereon  we 
agree.  A  vow  once  made  should  be  sacred  forever,  and  a  perjurer  is 
one  I  cannot  permit  in  my  apartment." 

He  opened  the  door  for  his  nephew  to  pass  out,  looking  down  at 
him  from  the  height  of  his  contempt  ;  then,  hurrying  his  prepara 
tions,  left  the  city  in  the  evening.  He  dared  not  remain  so  near 
Christine.  He  knew  not  at  what  moment  he  might  be  guilty  of  a 
madness  worse  than  any  before.  Before  he  left,  however,  he  called  at 
the  bank,  and  deposited,  settled  on  Christine,  the  same  sum  that 
Matthew  had  given  her  as  dowry.  He  arranged  the  interest  to  be 
paid  to  her,  either  personally  or  by  letter,  and  gave  her  country 
address  as  her  home. 

"  Beloved,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  at  least  you  will  not  be  penniless  ; 
and,  though  you  will  never  know  it,  I  shall  watch  over  and  protect 
you." 


208 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER     XXVI. 

"FOR  HER  CHILD'S  SAKE." 

FTER  her  last  fainting-fit,  Christine  was  very  ill,  —  so 
ill,  that  the  doctors  summoned  did  not  leave  her  for 
hours.  John  Smith  had  told  them  to  spare  no  ex 
pense.  She  was  his  niece,  and  the  bills  must  be 
sent  to  him  ;  and,  John  Smith  being  of  wealth  and 
consequence,  the  doctors  gave  much  time,  and  all 
their  skill,  to  their  patient. 

After  many  days  of  illness,  and  faithful  nursing 
from  Sallie  and  Maggie,  Christine  crept  from  her 
bedroom  to  the  sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  and  lay 
there  a  shadow  of  her  former  self.  She  had  been  too  ill  to  speak  to 
Malcolm ;  and  he  had  only  occasionally,  and  for  a  few  minutes  at  a 
time,  visited  the  sick-room. 

Full  of  blooming  health,  he  had  a  dread  of  sickness,  or  of  any 
thing  that  alluded  to  death.  Contenting  himself  with  telling  Sallie  to 
"  take  good  care  of  her,"  he  avoided  the  room,  and  even  the  house, 
where  his  wife  was  hovering  on  the  borders  of  the  spirit-world.  He 
had  been  so  little  at  home  the  last  few  days,  that  he  was  astonished, 
on  entering  the  room,  to  see  her  lying  on  the  sofa. 

"Why,  Christine,"  he  said,  going  towards  her  as  she  half  rose, 
"  you're  almost  well  !  How  glad  I  am,  my  love  !  "  And,  taking  her 
hand,  he  kissed  her. 

He  thought  it  a  curious  freak  of  her  sickness,  that  she,  who  had 


"FOR  HER    CHILD'S  SAKE."  209 

always  so  gladly  welcomed  his  lightest  caress,  should  have  tried  to 
move  away  as  he  kissed  her.  He  sat  beside  her  for  a  few  moments, 
chatting  in  a  pleasant  way.  He  did  not  notice  that  she  was  trembling, 
and  trying  to  speak.  After  the  first  glance,  he  did  not  look  at  her. 
Her  extreme  pallor  and  evident  weakness  were  not  pleasant  to  his 
eyes,  that  only  liked  to  rest  on  the  fresh  and  blooming.  But  he  was 
doing  the  "  duty "  business,  as  he  called  it,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
casting  about  in  his  mind  for  some  way  of  escape.  He  was  wishing 
Sallie  or  Maggie  would  come  in,  and  afford  an  excuse  for  leaving  ;  but 
they  had  seen  him  enter,  and  were  very  carefully  keeping  out  of  the 
way.  Finding  no  opening  made  for  him,  he  concluded  to  make  one 
for  himself,  and,  looking  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel,  said,  — 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late  !  I  must  be  off,  dear,  to  busi 
ness.  Don't  fret,  love.  It  will  soon  be  over,  and  then  we  can  have 
more  time  together." 

And,  stooping  to  kiss  her  good-by,  he  thought  the  little  chat  with 
Christine  was  well  over  ;  but,  as  he  turned  to  go,  her  hand  detained 
him.  For  the  first  time  since  he  entered,  she  spoke  ;  and  the  words 
were  so  low  he  had  to  bow  his  head  to  hear  them. 

"  Malcolm,  your  uncle  and  I  sat  in  the  box  opposite  yours  the 
evening  '  Othello  '  was  given." 

"  Oh  !  you  did  ?  " 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  waited  for  the  "  scene,"  as  he 
phrased  it,  to  be  over.  As  she  did  not  speak,  he  worked  himself  into 
a  petty  rage,  trying  to  force  things  a  little  ;  for,  to  him,  it  was  becom 
ing  awfully  slow,  this  waiting  for  some  one  to  speak  who  looked  more 
like  a  ghost  than  a  woman. 

"  And  so  you,  the  noble,  the  exalted  Christine,  condescended  to 
play  the  spy,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  see  you  until  the  close  of  the  play.  Up  to  that  time, 
I  had  never  doubted  your  truth.  And  since  then  "  — 


210  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

She  was  so  weak,  trembling  violently,  and  the  tears  were  rising 
to  her  eyes.  If  there  was  one  thing  Malcolm  hated,  it  was  a  woman 
in  tears.  It  was  one  of  the  few  unchanging  sentiments  he  was  capa 
ble  of.  Sneeringly  he  spoke,  — 

"  And  now,  madam,  what  do  your  doubts  tell  you  ? " 

She  did  not  answer  :  she  could  not,  her  feelings  were  so  strong, 
and  she  was  still  so  weak.  Finding  his  taunt  did  not  stir  any  angry 
reproaches,  he  rose,  and,  going  over  to  the  sofa,  spoke  in  kinder 
tones  :  — 

"  Now,  my  dear  girl,  don't  be  silly.  You  saw  nothing  that  should 
have  made  you  unhappy.  I  was  talking  to  a  very  nice  young  lady, 
whom  I  hope  you  will  learn  to  like  very  much.  She  feels  most  kindly 
to  you,  —  is  ready  to  treat  you  like  a  sister  ;  and  I  truly  hope  you  will 
receive  her  in  the  same  pleasant  manner,  for  I  intend  to  make  her 
my  wife." 

"  Make  her  your  wife  !     Malcolm  !  " 

Her  weakness  forgotten,  the  woman  stood  upright.  How  tall  and 
shadowy  she  looked  !  her  hands  clasped  tight  together,  and  the  great 
eyes,  filled  with  amazement,  staring  at  him. 

"  Well,  madam  !  "  The  beauty  of  the  man  was  almost  lost  in  the 
cold  brutality  of  his  expression  as  he  stood  facing  her.  Did  there 
come  to  them  both  a  memory  of  that  other  time,  when,  under  the 
orchard-trees,  they  had  stood  thus  face  to  face,  while  he  pleaded  for, 
and  won,  the  woman  whom  now,  like  a  useless  toy,  he  was  casting 
aside  ?  It  may  have  been  so  ;  for,  once  more  approaching  her,  he 
once  more  spoke  in  kindly  manner  :  — 

"  Now,  Christine,  don't  get  the  heroics.  Be  a  sensible,  good  girl, 
and  I  will  be  a  kinder,  better  husband  to  you  than  ever  before.  If  you 
make  a  point  of  it,  I  will  delay  my  marriage  until  after  the  child  comes  ; 
though  I  hope  you  won't  be  so  silly.  This  second  marriage  will  make 
no  difference  to  you.  Nellie's  father  will  give  her  a  house  near,  if 


"FOR  HER    CHILD'S  SAKE:'  211 

you  object  to  sharing  this  one  with  her.  I  find,  by  looking  over  the 
papers,  the  house  is  deeded  to  you  ;  and,  while  in  Utah  a  man  is  gen 
erally  entitled  to  his  wife's  estate,  I  will  waive  this  right.  I  will  do 
any  thing  in  reason  if  you  will  only  submit  to  the  inevitable,  and 
inevitable  it  is,"  he  added,  again  sinking  to  brutality.  Then,  in  a  more 
usual  manner,  he  went  on,  as  if  arguing  a  point  of  slight,  and  not 
vital,  interest,  — 

"  Why,  Christine,  if  you're  only  sensible,  you  two  young  women 
can  live  together  in  peace  and  harmony,  and  be  company  for  each 
other  when  business  calls  me  away.  Look  at  my  uncle's  wives,  how 
pleasantly  they  get  on  !  " 

He  waited  a  little  for  her  to  answer.  As  she  did  not,  he  went 
on,  — 

"  And,  if  you  really  want  to  please  me,  you  will  try  to  get  well  and 
strong,  so  you  can  take  the  true  wife's  place,  and  give  your  consent  to 
the  marriage." 

Until  this  moment  she  had  stood  perfectly  still,  gazing  at  him. 
Words  had  rushed  to  her  lips,  —  pleading,  earnest  words,  praying  him, 
for  the  sake  of  the  little  one,  to  have  pity,  and  be  true  to  his  vow  : 
but,  as  he  went  on  speaking,  the  words  died  before  they  had  been 
spoken  ;  for  she  felt  their  utter  powerlessness.  When  with  this  last 
insult,  uttered  with  a  smile,  he  advanced  a  step  nearer  to  her,  she  fell 
back  on  the  sofa,  answering  in  a  faint  but  determined  voice,  — 

"  Consent  to  a  crime  ?  Rob  my  unborn  child  of  its  birthright  ? 
Never."  Then  quickly,  in  a  nervous  whisper,  she  went  on,  — 

"  You  can  have  this  house.  I  shall  leave  it,  and  never  enter  it 
again.  I  will  go  to  my  grandfather  to-morrow."  And  then,  for  the 
sake  of  her  child,  her  heart  broke  out  in  one  last  effort.  Falling  on 
her  knees  before  him,  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  Malcolm,  for  the  sake  of  this  baby,  do  not  break  your  solemn 
vow  !  Do  not  commit  bigamy.  Be  faithful  to  your  better  self.  Do 


212 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


not  make  this  child  of  ours  the  child  of  a  criminal.  The  law  of  the 
land  may  not  punish  the  crime,  but  it  is  a  crime  in  the  sight  of  God 
and  man.  Have  pity  on  yourself  :  have  pity  on  your  child.  As  you 
have  a  soul  to  be  saved,  do  not  violate  God's  sacred  law." 


She  still  knelt  before  him, 
clasped  hands  and  upraised 
on     her,     and    laughed, 
ness  portrayed  in  every 

"Well,"  — and   he 
"  you  are  a  greater  fool 


still  mutely  pleading  with 
eyes.  He  looked  down 
brutality  and  selfish- 
line  of  his  face, 
laughed  again,  — 
than  I  thought  you. 
Go  to  your  grand 
father  if  you  will ; 
but  remember,  it 
is  only  my  indul 
gence  that  permits 
you  this  license : 
for  in  Utah's  law, 
unless  divorced,  a 
wife  must  cleave  to 
her  husband ;  and 
it  would  be  rather 
difficult,  in  a  land 
whose  foremost  in 
stitution  is  polyga 
my,  for  a  woman  to 

obtain  a  divorce  because  her  husband  decides  he  needs  another  wife." 
Still  at  his  feet,  the  silent  figure  pleaded  for  the  unborn  child. 
"  Perhaps,   madam," — and   his   beautiful    mouth    curled    into   yet 
more  brutal  sneers,  —  "  it  is  as  well  for  you  to  know  that  a  marriage 
like  ours  is  not   recognized   here  ;   and,  if    I    choose,  I  can  proclaim 
your  child  a  bastard." 


FALLING   ON    HER    KNEES   BEFORE    HIM." 


"FOR  HER    CHILD'S  SAKE:1  213 

Hurling  this  at  her,  crushing  her  under  its  false  and  cruel  weight, 
he  left  the  room,  nor  looked  behind  to  see  his  work.  Sallie,  who  had 
heard  his  loud,  excited  voice,  had  stood  near  the  door  of  Christine's 
room,  ready  to  rush  in  if  he  offered  personal  violence.  At  his  closing 
words,  she  could  hardly  contain  herself,  and  shaking  her  fist,  hard 
ened  with  honest  labor,  at  his  retreating  figure,  said,  — 

"  O  you  brute  !  I  wish  I  had  a  chance  to  spoil  your  beauty  for 
you.  I'd  do  it,  so  there'd  never  be  a  sign  left  to  guess  it  by."  Then, 
hurrying  in  to  the  prostrate  woman  on  the  floor,  she  found  Christine 
panting,  exhausted,  but  perfectly  conscious.  Relieved,  for  she  had 
dreaded  another  of  those  terrible  faints,  she  lifted  her  in  her  arms, 
and  put  her  on  the  sofa. 

****          ####          ##•# 

"  I  must  sit  up,  Sallie.  I  must  write  a  line,"  she  whispered  hur 
riedly.  "  Quick  !  "  she  said,  seeing  Sallie  hesitate. 

"  Ah  !  sure  deary,  you're  too  weak." 

"  I  must,  Sallie.     Please  !  " 

Sallie  brought  her  writing-desk,  and  held  it  while  Christine  wrote 
a  few  tremulous  words  to  Matthew. 

"SALT  LAKE. 
"  FATHER,  —  Meet  me  at  the  train  to-morrow.     I  am  going  home  to  you. 

"CHRISTINE." 

Not  a  word  of  explanation.  It  was  not  needed.  Matthew  would 
know  his  child  was  in  trouble,  and,  if  alive,  would  be  there  to  welcome 
her.  The  message  was  sent ;  and  Christine,  filled  with  nervous  haste, 
was  directing  the  packing  of  her  trunk,  —  the  same  little  trunk  that 
stood  in  the  corner  of  her  maiden  room,  and  which  Tabitha  had 
packed  the  last  morning  they  were  all  together,  when,  except  for  the 
coming  parting,  they  were  so  happy.  Motioning  aside  each  article 
that  had  been  bought  since  her  marriage,  she  took  only  the  things  she 
had  brought  with  her  as  a  bride,  and  a  few  trinkets  Matthew  had  chosen 


214  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

for  her  during  his  visit.  Out  of  these,  selecting  a  remembrance  for 
Sallie  and  Maggie,  she  gave  them  with  gentle  words,  as  one  friend  to 
another. 

When  all  was  finished,  the  confusion  of  the  room  made  orderly, 
and  Christine's  travelling-dress  on  a  chair,  ready  for  the  morning's 
journey,  she  turned  to  Sallie,  asking,  — 

"  May  I  sleep  in  your  room  to-night  ?  " 

"  Sure,  deary,  just  sleep  in  your  own  bed  ;  and  I'll  draw  the  sofa 
near  the  door  to  be  handy  when  you  call  me.  I'd  like  to  see  any  one 
pass  over  me  to  trouble  her,"  she  muttered  under  her  breath. 

But  there  was  no  need  for  anxiety.  Malcolm  did  not  come  near 
the  house,  neither  that  day,  nor  for  several  days  after  Christine's 
departure.  She  left  in  the  morning's  train,  Maggie  and  Sallie  riding 
with  her  to  the  depot,  and  standing  there  crying  long  after  the  cars, 
that  were  bearing  away  their  mistress,  were  out  of  sight.  It  was  a 
long,  weary  ride  to  poor  Christine,  sitting  alone,  too  weak  and  sick 
even  to  think. 

When,  at  evening,  she  reached  the  terminus  of  the  road,  and  saw 
the  dear  father's  face  in  the  crowd  at  the  station,  she  staggered  out, 
and  down  the  steps,  and  fell  into  his  outstretched  arms.  He  blessed 
her,  he  soothed  her,  carrying  her  to  the  waiting  wagon  he  had  made 
comfortable  for  his  darling  ;  and  then,  turning  away  to  hide  his  tears, 
he  went  for  her  trunk. 

"  My  birdling,  my  birdling  !  I  did  not  know  it  was  so  bad,"  he 
murmured  to  himself.  He  was  shocked  at  the  change  in  her,  who, 
when  he  left  her,  was  in  the  full  beauty  and  bloom  of  woman 
hood. 

The  quiet  ride  through  the  snow-covered  country,  the  loving  ten 
derness  of  her  grandfather,  and  the  home-coming,  were  doing  wonders 
for  the  sick,  heart-broken  woman.  And  when  she  reached  the  little 
cottage,  where  she  had  passed  such  peaceful  days  ;  when  the  door, 


"FOR  HER    CHILD'S  SAKE."  215 

thrown  open,  let  fall  on  her  the  warm,  bright  light  ;  when  the'  loving 
faces  of  Tabitha,  Patience,  and  Christie  in  his  mother's  arms,  hastened 
towards  her,  welcoming  her  with  joy,  she  was  no  longer  a  lone  wan 
derer,  but  the  dearly  beloved  coming  back  to  her  own.  Even  Rex, 
grown  as  large  as  a  lion,  seemed  to  feel  he  must  do  his  share ;  and 
barking,  and  wagging  his  tail,  he  capered  around  the  group. 

Matthew  had  asked  no  explanation  ;  but  riding  by  his  side,  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  and  one  arm  thrown  round  her  to  steady  her 
from  the  jolting  of  the  wagon,  she  had  simply  said,  — 

"  Malcolm  is  about  to  take  a  second  wife,  and  I  have  come  back 
to  you." 

Not  a  word  blaming  her  husband,  not  a  mention  of  John  Smith's 
cruel  insult.  Only  these  few  words.  And  never  again  did  she  allude 
to  her  life  in  Salt  Lake,  but  she  prayed  for  the  two  who  had  so  cruelly 
wronged  her.  Often  would  her  lips  form  the  words,  that  above  the 
contention  of  politics,  the  merry  clatter  of  a  festive  meal,  the  subdued 
hum  of  fashionable  reception,  were  constantly  ringing  in  John  Smith's 
ears,  "  Lord,  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us,  poor  sinners  !  "  And  the 
friends  who  loved  her,  seeing  her  thus  come  back  to  them,  broken  in 
health  and  spirit,  loved  her  all  the  more  for  the  suffering  that  had  left 
its  mark  forever  stamped  upon  her  face. 

Christine  had  not  dreamed  it  possible  that  ever  again  she  could 
feel  so  near  content  as  now,  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  before  the  bright, 
warm  fire  ;  Christie  propped  up  in  another  chair  by  her  side,  looking 
at  her  in  his  old  fond  way  ;  Patience  at  her  feet,  with  her  heart  in  her 
eyes  ;  and  Tabitha,  full  of  motherly  tenderness,  coaxing  her  to  drink 
some  warm  tea.  And  then  the  door  opened,  and  Matthew's  noble 
face  appeared. 

"  Ah  !  thanks  for  the  place  left  for  me  so  near  my  birdling."  And, 
taking  the  chair  Patience  had  placed  for  him  close  to  Christine's,  he 
kissed  the  hand  his  child  extended  to  him. 


2L6 


SALT- LAKE   FRUIT. 


"This  is  home,  now  we  have  you,  my  darling." 
"  This  is  home,"  said  Patience's  loving  face,  looking  up  into  hers. 
Christie  and  Tabitha  took  up  the  words,  saying  them  softly  to  her. 
Rex  left  his  warm  corner,  and  came  towards  Christine  as  if  about  to 
speak,  but  contenting  himself  with  a  knowing  wink  at  Christie,  and  an 
affectionate  poke  of  his  nose  in  the  wan  little  hand,  went  back  to  his 
corner  and  his  snooze,  grunting  in  a  satisfied  kind  of  way,  as  if  he  had 
fully  performed  his  duty. 

"  He  says  he  quite  agrees  with  us,  Christine 
dear,"  said  Patience,  who  was  always  translating 
Rex's  thoughts. 

The  absent  one  from  the 
group  of  friends  was  not  for 
gotten. 

"  Is  there  a  day  fixed 
for     Martin's     return  ? 
asked  Christine. 

"  No  ;  but  surely  in 
time  for  Christmas,"  an- 
X  swered  Patience.  "He 
has  been  now  working 
over  a  month  for  Mr. 
Marks,  and  gets  four 
dollars  per  day.  He  is  *  rigging  up  a  little  place  for  us,'  so  he  wrote 
in  his  last  letter.  We'll  go  early  in  the  new  year,  and  you  and 
Matthew  are  coming  too.  How  happy  I  will  be  !  " 

"  Father,  is  this  possible  ?  "  said  Christine,  turning  to  Matthew. 
"  This   little   girl   has   been   coaxing   so,   that   I   can   hardly  refuse 
her,"   the   old.   man  answered,   patting    Patience's  fair  cheek.     "  But, 
darling," -  —  turning  to  his   child,  —  "I   will   do  about   it   just   as  you 
wish." 


"  SITTING  IN  AN  EASY-CHAIR  BEFORE  THE  BRIGHT,  WARM  FIRE." 


"  FOR  HER    CHILD'S  SAKE."  217 

"  O  father  !     I  will  be  so  thankful  to  go." 

And  so,  with  hopes  for  the  coming  year  filling  their  hearts,  and 
brightening  even  the  heavy  clouds  on  Christine's  life,  the  quiet  home- 
evening  drew  to  its  close. 


218 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

IN    THE    SITTING-ROOM. 

HRISTINE  had  been  home  a  week.     Daily  growing 
stronger  and  stronger,  she  could  now  walk  around 
the  little  garden.     The  plants  all  wore  their  winter 
garb  of  snowy  white,  and  were  hung  with  icy  jewels 
that   sparkled  gayly  in  the  bright   sunshine.     She 
was  sitting  by  the  warm  fire,  sewing  on  some  tiny 
garment.     Near  the  window,  on  a  large  stand,  were 
the    plants   love    had   tended   for  her,  —  Matthew's 
geranium  and   ivy,   Christie's  mignonette,   Tabitha's 
hyacinths,  and  Patience's  rose,  —  a  large,  healthy  bush, 
but  not  a  sign  of  a  bud. 

"  Vexing,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  the  girl,  when  she  had  given  it  to  Chris 
tine.  "  If  you  only  knew  how  I've  watched  and  tended  it  to  get  one 
little  bud  !  But  it  wouldn't  come."  And  she  sighed. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  Christine  had  made  answer.  "  Each  glossy 
leaf  is  as  fair  as  a  flower  to  me,  for  it  tells  of  my  Patience's  love." 

These  friends  never  spoke  now  of  the  past.  There  was  too  much 
pain  buried  in  its  graves.  Their  hopes  and  thoughts  were  all  for  the 
coming  year.  On  the  evening  of  Christine's  arrival,  Matthew,  going 
to  the  door  with  Tabitha  and  her  children,  repeated  to  them  Christine's 
words  to  him.  They  asked  no  questions  ;  for  they  loved  her,  and 
respected  the  sacredness  of  a  grief  so  great  that  it  had  forever  washed 
away  Christine's  youth. 


IN  THE  SITTING-ROOM.  219 

She  was  thinking  now,  as  she  sat  alone,  of  what  their  lives  would 
be  when  once  out  of  Utah,  and  really  under  the  protection  of  the  laws 
of  the  United  States  ;  and  her  heart  gave  a  little  throb  of  something 
like  happiness  that  her  child  would  not  be  born  a  Mormon ;  when  the 
door  was  opened,  and  Patience,  brighter  and  fairer  than  the  morning, 
stood  before  her,  clapping  her  hands,  laughing  and  dancing  about,  while 
the  merry  dimples  played  hide  and  seek.  She  was  the  Patience  of  the 
olden  days  ;  for  of  late  she  had  been  paler  and  more  nervous  than  those 
who  loved  her,  liked  to  see  this  happy  little  maiden. 

"  It  is  the  constant  watching  of  Bishop  White,"  she  would  answer, 
when  asked  if  she  felt  badly.  "  It  is  fairly  killing  me.  Wherever  I 
go,  wherever  I  look,  I  expect  to  see  those  wicked  eyes  blinking  at  me." 
And  she  would  screw  her  own  lovely  ones,  and  twist  her  pretty  face, 
into  a  comical  resemblance  of  the  bishop.  But  to-day  she  was  so  full 
of  laughter  and  mirth,  that  Christine  felt  herself  grow  younger  in  the 
glow  of  this  bright  being. 

"  O  Christine  !  "  —  the  merry  voice  filled  the  room  with  youth's 
own  music, —  "I've  just  seen  something  that  has  made  me  so  glad. 
I  went  out  to  bring  in  some  wood  for  the  fire,  when,  lo  !  at  the  gate 
stood  that  fearful  Bishop  White.  I  felt  like  running  back  to  the  house  ; 
for  does  it  not  seem  strange,  though  for  months  he  has  been  popping 
up  around  me  in  most  unexpected  places,  this  was  the  first  time  he 
ever  saw  me  apart  from  mother?  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself  for  my 
cowardice,  and  went  on  filling  my  basket  with  wood.  Trembling  like 
a  leaf,  and  thankful  I  had  all  I  could  carry,  I  turned  to  go  into  the 
house,  when  —  I  almost  screamed  —  there  he  stood,  right  between  me 
and  the  kitchen-door.  '  You  silly  little  beauty,'  he  said,  putting  out 
his  hand,  and  trying  to  take  mine  ;  but  I  held  the  wood  so  he  couldn't 
come  near  me.  '  Give  me  your  hand  for  a  moment,  and  I  will  put  this 
ring  on  it.'  And  he  held  out  a  golden  ring,  with  a  stone  like  a 
dewdrop  sparkling  in  it.  I  drew  back,  and  was  just  about  to  call  for 


220 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


mother,  when  hurried  steps  up  the  walk  made  the  bishop  start  away 
from  me.  Looking  up,  we  both  beheld,  whom  do  you  suppose  ?  Mrs. 
White  !  With  a  face  as  red  as  a  beet,  and  shaking  so  with  anger  she 
could  hardly  speak,  she  stood  glaring  at  the  bishop  and  me.  I  was  as 
thankful  to  see  her  as  if  she  had  been  an  angel.  But  the  bishop  !  I 


"  HE    HELD    OUT    A    GOLDEN    RING. 


wish  you  could  have  seen  his  face  !  "  And  Patience  fell  to  dancing, 
and  clapping  her  hands,  at  the  bare  remembrance  ;  while  her  laughter 
bubbled  up  like  a  clear  spring. 

"  Well,  he  looked  the  color  of  a  sheep  before  it  is  washed  for  a 
shearing.  Such  a  dirty  white,  and  such  a  sheepish  old  face  as  he 
raised  to  hers,  saying,  in  the  meekest  voice,  — 

"  '  Well,  my  dear,  do  you  want  me  ? '  " 


IN  THE   SITTING-ROOM.  221 

Here  Patience  gave  the  funniest  imitation  of  the  bishop,  so  that 
she  even  provoked  a  laugh  from  Christine. 

"  'Yes,  my  dear/  said  Mrs.  White."  And  Patience  held  her  head 
back,  and  swelled  herself  out  till  she  looked  as  near  a  fat,  pursy  old 
lady  as  any  thing  so  pretty  could  look.  "  '  I  should  like  you  to  take  a 
walk  with  me,'  said  Mrs.  White.  And,  without  a  word,  the  bishop 
turned,  and  followed  her.  Now,  although  I  did  not  see  any  collar 
around  his  neck,  nor  chain  in  her  hand,  I  do  believe  she  had  an 
invisible  one  ;  for  he  followed,  as  a  whipped  dog  a  master  that  he 
feared.  And  now,  thank  Heaven !  I  don't  think  I  will  ever  again  be 
troubled  with  the  bishop." 

Christine  was  thankful  too.  Patience  was  such  a  sunny  creature, 
making  life  brighter  for  all  around,  full  of  intelligence  and  impetuosity, 
and,  withal,  so  loving,  so  dependent  on  those  she  loved.  It  had  grieved 
Christine,  in  all  her  own  heavy  sorrow,  to  see  the  cloud  that  had  fallen 
over  this  fair  girl.  And  now  it  was  gone.  And  the  bright  face, 
nestling  on  her  knee,  looked  up  to  hers  full  of  smiles  and  happiness. 

"  I,  too,  am  thankful,  dear,  that  you  are  happy." 

Poor,  innocent  Patience  !  If  you  could  have  heard  what  passed 
between  Bishop  White  and  his  wife,  you  would  have  fallen  on  your 
knees  at  Christine's  feet,  and  implored  her  to  lend  you  the  long,  bright 
needle  in  her  hand,  that  you  might  let  out  your  pure  young  life. 


222 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 


AN    ARCH-FIEND. 

'FTER  capturing  the  bishop,  Mrs.  White,  who  was  a 
stout,  heavily  built  woman,  took  some  little  time  to 
recover  her  breath,  of  which  she  had  not  too  plenti 
ful  a  supply.  And,  during  that  time,  she  arranged 
her  plans  of  action.  Of  late  she  had  greatly  won 
dered  at  the  constant  walks  of  the  bishop,  —  he  who 
formerly  would  ride  even  short  distances,  and  would 
never  voluntarily  take  an  unnecessary  step.  She 
had  dreaded  some  disagreeable  surprise  in  the  per 
son  of  another  Mrs.  White  being  added  to  the  family, 
and  too  well  she  liked  the  place  of  power  meekly  to 
yield  to  an  intruder. 

Up  to  these  walks,  to  which  the  bishop  never  alluded,  she  had  had 
him  under  her  influence ;  for  by  pandering  to  his  every  wish,  by  con 
stant  flattery,  she  had  managed  to  get  him  completely  in  her  power. 
It  was  tiresome,  very  tiresome,  this  truckling  to  a  weak  and  inferior 
nature  ;  but  he  was  the  sole  authority  in  the  little  town  :  and  - 
well,  to  her  the  game  was  worth  the  candle.  So,  opposing  him  only 
when  he  opposed  her  will,  he  rarely  attempted  it,  finding  her  at  other 
times  too  able  an  auxiliary.  He  had  fallen  into  a  way  of  consulting 
her  ;  and,  though  sometimes  he  might  wince  when  she  would  quietly 
discuss  the  cruel  and  hidden  motive  of  his  deeds,  she  had  such  a  way 
of  putting  the  case,  that,  aiding  him  to  success,  she  would  crush  out 


AN  ARCH-FIEND.  223 

whatever  shade  of  remorse  he  might  have  felt.  But  about  these  walks 
he  never  spoke.  Whatever  the  motive,  —  and  it  must  be  a  strong  one, 
—  he  kept  it  to  himself. 

Determined  to  solve  the  mystery,  she  had  for  a  few  weeks  past 
begun  a  system  of  following  him.  He  always  took  the  same  road,  — 
the  one  that  led  to  Tabitha's  cabin.  He  generally  stopped  at  the 
gate,  and  rarely  spoke  to  any  one.  Mrs.  White  grew  more  and  more 
puzzled.  And,  what  seemed  most  incomprehensible,  no  one  seemed 
anxious  to  attract  or  conciliate  him.  The  inhabitants  of  the  cabin 
came  and  went  about  their  duties,  without  once  looking  at  Bishop 
White.  And  even  when  Tabitha,  and  a  young  girl,  who  was,  as  Mrs. 
White  supposed,  her  daughter,  came  out  to  work  in  the  garden,  they 
did  not  seem  to  notice  the  man  leaning  on  the  gate  watching  them. 

"It  is  very  curious,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Why  should  he  go 
there  ?  What  does  he  want  of  them  ?  Is  he  making  up  his  mind 
to  take  back  the  house  and  fine  garden,  and  then  turn  the  woman's 
talents  to  use,  and  let  her  reclaim  another  bit  of  waste  land  ?  " 

At  this  possibility,  Mrs.  White  had  laughed  as  at  some  huge  joke. 
But  another  phase  of  possibilities  suggested  itself. 

"  Or  "  —  and  here  she  grew  pale  —  "  had  he  begun  to  desire  to 
re-instate  Tabitha  at  the  head  of  his  household  ?  Not  if  I  can  prevent 
it,"  she  said  to  herself.  And  so  she  kept  on  following  and  watching  ; 
and  he,  not  knowing  this,  kept  on  with  his  constant  walks,  and  watch 
ing  of  Patience. 

As  usual,  Mrs.  White  had  this  day  followed  him,  and,  as  usual,  saw 
him  stop  at  the  fence,  looking  over,  as  if  waiting  or  expecting  some 
thing  ;  when  suddenly,  and  most  unexpectedly,  she  saw  him  open  the 
gate,  and,  more  quickly  than  she  had  ever  before  seen  him  move,  walk 
towards  the  house.  Anxious  to  reach  him  before  he  could  enter  the 
door,  or  speak  to  Tabitha,  and  thus  gain  him  a  woman  for  an  ally,  and 
another  antagonist  for  her  to  overcome,  she  ran  as  well  as  she  could. 


224  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

Puffing,  breathless,  she  reached  the  wood-pile  just  as  he  held  a  diamond 
ring  towards  the  young  girl  who  drew  away  from  him.  It  was  a  very 
handsome  ring.  Mrs.  White  saw  it  plainly,  and,  though  too  out  of 
breath  to  speak,  was  quite  enough  composed  to  vow  in  her  mind  that 
she  would  possess  the  ring  before  she  slept  that  night.  She  saw  more 
than  the  ring  :  she  had  caught  the  expression  of  the  bishop's  face. 

"  Artful  jade  !  "  she  thought,  as  she  looked  at  Patience.  "  She 
thinks  she'll  get  more  out  of  him." 

Just  then,  looking  up,  and  beholding  her,  the  bishop  meekly  fol 
lowed  at  her  bidding,  as  Patience,  with  merry  laughter,  had  described 
to  Christine.  The  crestfallen  bishop  walked  behind  Mrs.  White.  He 
supposed  she  was  enraged,  and  rather  dreaded  one  of  the  hysterical 
fits  to  which  she  occasionally  treated  him  when  he  proved  obdurate. 
They  walked  in  silence,  until,  well  out  of  sight  and  hearing  from  the 
cabin,  she  surprised  him  by  turning  around,  beaming  with  smiles, 
and  then  saying,  in  her  blandest  tones,  — 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear,  you  wish  of  that  young  girl  ?  " 

In  spite  of  his  threescore  years,  the  bishop  stammered,  hesitated, 
blushed.  Those  fat-hidden  eyes  sought  the  ground,  looking  for  words 
that  he  might  make  some  satisfactory  explanation.  But  the  bishop 
was  not  quick  of  thought.  For  a  moment  this  partner  of  his  secrets 
and  his  joys  looked  quietly  at  him,  ill  concealing  her  scorn  for  so  low 
and  weak  a  creature,  and  then  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  thus 
holding  him  at  her  side,  began  to  waken  his  ruling  passion,  —  avarice. 

"  I  know  what  you  want,  —  I  who  always  willingly  serve  you  as 
my  bishop  as  well  as  husband,  dear  both  in  affection  and  religion." 
And  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  while,  looking  at  her  in  perfect 
amazement  at  her  sudden  increase  of  piety,  the  bishop  wondered  what 
she  intended  to  do  and  say. 

"  Dear  bishop,"  —  she  grew  affectionate,  —  "  you  want  to  bestow 
your  lovely  daughter  on  the  greatest  dignitary  of  our  church." 


AN  ARCH-FIEND.  22$ 

The  bishop  started.     This  idea  had  never  suggested  itself. 

"  You  want  "  —  she  went  on  —  "  to  give  to  that  great  man  this  fair 
maid,  to  warm  into  youth  his  declining  days.  Ah  !  what  would  not 
that  holy  man  give  you  in  exchange  for  this  rare  jewel  ?  And  remem 
ber  that  this  year  your  crops  and  dairy  have  not  yielded  well.  Your 
income  has  been  diminished  one-eighth.  What  will  be  the  result  if 
like  misfortunes  should  continue  ?  " 

The  bishop  paled  a  little,  and  looked  nervous. 

"  But  they  will  not.  God  protects  the  righteous.  To  you,  true 
bishop  of  his  true  church,  he  sends  this  pearl  of  beauty.  Give  her  to 
enrich  the  heavenly  crown  of  our  holiest,  greatest  brother,  even  while 
her  charms  engage  his  earthly  sight."  And  then,  leaving  the  eleva 
tion  of  pious  fraud,  she  said  in  a  quick  whisper,  as  though  even  the 
air  might  hear,  — 

"  It  will  be  worth  thousands  and  thousands  to  you.  She's  very 
fresh  and  pretty,  will  be  a  thorough  novelty  in  Salt  Lake,  and  sure  to 
please  the  old  man's  worn-out  fancy.  Then,  while  she  is  in  power, 
make  her  get  from  him  just  what  you  want." 

Quite  her  slave  now,  his  eyes  eager  with  the  desire  of  gain,  the 
bishop,  also  whispering,  stepped  closer  to  Mrs.  White. 

"  Make  her  ?  How  am  I  to  make  her  ?  I  —  I've  been  watching 
her  since  July,  and  this  is  the  first  time  I've  ever  seen  her  alone.  It 
would  be  useless  to  speak  before  Tabitha  ;  and  —  and  I  fear  the  girl 
has  something  of  her  mother's  cursed  obstinacy.  You  see,  my  —  my 
dear,  in  Salt  Lake  she'd  have  to  seem  pleased  and  willing  to  enter  in 
polygamy.  I  would  get  no  —  no  favor  if  she  were  not  amiable." 

"  Amiable  !  "  Mrs.  White  sneered.  "  Leave  her  to  me.  I'll  make 
her  amiable  enough." 

The  bishop  looked  at  her  a  little  doubtfully,  and  then,  still  hesitat 
ing,  went  on.  For  months,  fascinated  by  Patience's  beauty,  and 
piqued  by  the  difficulties  that  surrounded  her,  he  had  watched  her 


226  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

patiently.  But  now,  under  this  new  motive,  this  greatest  passion  of 
his  life,  he  could  not  act  too  quickly.  The  possible  gain  of  money 
made  him  eager  and  anxious  :  — 

"You  —  you  see,  there's  not  much  time  to  lose.  Others  have 
pretty  daughters  ;  and,  if  a  new  wife  is  taken  by  the  old  man,  he  —  he 
may  not  very  soon  feel  like  having  another.  And  —  and  the  girl  has 
been  left  so  long  with  her  cursed  mother,  I'm  afraid  it  won't  be  easy 
to  make  her  do  as  we  think  she  should." 

The  thousands  he  would  gain,  for  barter  and  sale  of  the  purity  of 
his  child,  were  very,  very  strong  arguments  with  the  bishop.  In  his 
eagerness  to  devise  some  immediate  plan  to  force  Patience  to  his  will, 
he  lost  sight  of  every  thing  else.  The  slight  awe  he  had  felt  for 
Tabitha  vanished,  and  he  stood  ready  to  follow  any  suggested  plan. 

"  You  —  you  see,"  —  for  Mrs.  White  had  not  spoken,  —  "  I'd  have 
to  show  her  how  much  better  off  she'd  be  if  she'd  only  —  only  hold 
her  tongue,  and  obey  her  —  father." 

He  could  hardly  say  the  word.  Even  his  dead  conscience  raised 
its  voice,  and,  from  the  grave  of  many  sins,  called  aloud  at  this  outrage 
to  that  holy  name  ;  but  Mrs.  White  would  permit  no  such  "  weak 
ness." 

"  Accursed  of  God  is  the  sin  of  disobedience,  and,  above  all,  dis 
obedience  to  a  father,"  and  Mrs.  White  raised  both  hands  and  eyes,  ex 
pressing  her  horror  of  such  deadly  wrong.  "  But,  my  dear  bishop, 
there  shall  be  no  such  sin.  The  girl  is  young,  pretty,  and  vain.  Once 
get  her  away  from  her  mother,  and  she'll  be  only  too  pleased,  with 
jewels  and  finery,  to  object  to  any  thing.  That  was  a  very  pretty  ring 
you  offered  her.  Let  me  see  it." 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket,  handed  it  to  her,  and,  though  he  half 
put  out  his  hand  as  she  placed  it  on  her  finger,  said  nothing.  She  had 
awakened  a  new  desire  in  his  mind ;  she  had  touched  the  motive- 
power  of  his  life  :  and,  while  he  had  every  willingness  to  accomplish 


AN  ARCH-FIEND.  227 

the  proposed  end,  he  was,  just  now,  waiting  helplessly  for  her  to 
suggest  the  manner. 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  White  as  she  pushed  on  the  ring,  and  after 
surveying  it  for  a  moment  or  so,  as  if,  having  received  payment,  she 
was  now  ready  to  act,  went  on  :  — 

"  First  get  the  girl  away  from  her  mother." 

"  How  am  I  to  do  that  ? "  asked  the  bishop.     "  She  won't  come." 

"  She  won't  come  ?  Ha,  ha  !  "  And  Mrs.  White  laughed,  as  if  the 
bishop  had  said  something  very  amusing.  "  Ha,  ha  !  "  she  laughed 
on.  Suddenly  changing  her  expression,  "Make  her"  she  said,  in  cold, 
cruel  tones.  Then  returning  to  blandness  and  smiles,  "  Why,  my  dear," 
—  and  she  gave  him  a  playful  tap  on  the  fat  cheek,  —  "  you,  a  bishop, 
ask  me  how  you're  to  do  what  you  wish  !  Do  as  you  have  done 
before.  Use  the  power  of  your  office.  You  know  the  men  in  the 
town,  and  how  far  you  can  rely  on  their  obedience.  Take  two  of 
those  most  in  your  control.  Ride  down  with  them  to  the  cabin. 
Walk  in.  First  ask,  then  demand,  your  daughter's  company,  just  for 
a  little  visit.  If  her  mother  consents,  all  is  well.  If  not,  all  is  yet 
well.  You  have  but  to  call  the  men,  and  tell  them  to  put  the  girl  in 
the  carriage." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  interposed  the  bishop,  "  should  they  resist  ?  " 

"  And,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  White,  "  cannot  you  take  two  men 
strong  enough  to  overpower  one  woman,  one  girl,  and  a  helpless 
cripple  ?  The  eldest  son  is  away,"  she  added  ;  "  so  two  strong  men 
will  be  quite  enough.  Once  the  girl  is  at  your  house,  let  me  manage 
her,  and  I  promise  I'll  break  her  will.  Once  humbled,  —  and  following 
my  plan  a  few  days  will  accomplish  this,  —  take  her  to  Salt  Lake,  show 
her  its  attractions,  let  her  feel  the  value  of  her  beauty,  and  your 
daughter  will  be  as  dutiful  as  you  could  wish." 

She  had  watched  the  fat  face  at  her  side  as  thus  she  played  upon 
his  worst  passions.  She  saw  the  sharp,  cunning  look  come  to  the 


228  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

little  eyes,  the  cruel  set  to  the  coarse  mouth,  and  knew  that  she  had 
made  this  man  her  slave. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  do  this  in  two  days  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly, 
his  fingers  nervously  closing,  as  if  they  already  held  the  price  of  his 
daughter's  sale. 

"Yes,  if  you  leave  her  to  me."  They  walked  on,  talking  in  low 
tones.  The  passers-by,  seeing  them  thus  together,  thought  how  united 
were  this  goodly  couple. 

And  thus  they  planned  the  destruction  of  those  who  had  never 
even  wished  them  harm,  who  had  borne  with  injustice  for  years,  and 
uttered  no  reproach. 

*********** 

The  next  day,  while  Tabitha  was  preparing  dinner,  and  Patience, 
sweet  song-bird,  was  laughing  and  singing  as  she  had  not  done  for 
months,  a  rap  came  at  the  door.  Patience  opened  it,  and  paled  to 
ashen  white  as  she  saw  her  father,  all  self-possession  and  smiles,  and, 
down  at  the  gate,  two  men,  standing  by  the  open  door  of  a  carriage. 

"  Mother ! "  she  called,  trembling  so  that  her  teeth  chattered, 
dreading  she  knew  not  what.  Tabitha,  with  one  bound,  stood  beside 
her  child.  She,  too,  saw  the  cruel,  wicked  leer  on  her  husband's  face, 
and  the  carriage,  with  the  two  men  standing  near.  An  agonized 
prayer  rose  from  her  soul  to  God,  "  Protect  my  child,  protect  my 
child,  or  strike  her  dead  at  my  feet  !  " 

Why  it  is  such  prayers  are  not  answered,  no  human  power  can 
understand.  Perhaps  this  terrible  suffering,  these  frightful  human 
sacrifices,  are  needed  to  wake  to  protective  action  a  slothful,  selfish 
world.  And,  alas !  the  innocent  and  the  guiltless  are  always  the 
victims. 

Throwing  her  arm  around  Patience,  who  trembled  and  shivered 
like  one  in  an  ague,  Tabitha  said  to  her  husband,  — 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 


AN  ARCH-FIEND.  229 

"  Nothing  much,  my  dear.  Only  a  short  visit  from  my  daughter, 
Patience." 

"  You  must  excuse  her  to-day,  Bishop  White,"  Tabitha  answered, 
she,  too,  beginning  to  shake  with  this  terrible  excitement.  "  She  is 
not  well.  She  cannot  go  to-day." 

"  Well  or  sick,  go  to-day  she  must  and  shall,"  he  answered,  all  the 
cruelty  of  his  nature  showing  in  his  face. 

Patience  clung  closer  and  closer  to  her  mother  ;  and  Tabitha,  her 
throat  and  mouth  hard  and  dry  with  the  horror  of  the  moment, 
said,  — 

"  Bishop  White,  more  than  ten  years  ago  you  drove  us  from  your 
door,  poor  and  friendless.  I  took  my  children,  and,  obeying  your  will, 
uttered  no  complaint.  Take  every  thing  I  have,  —  this  garden,  the 
result  of  ten  years'  labor  ;  this  house  that  shelters  us  ;  make  me.  your 
slave,  —  I  will  swear  to  work  for  you  day  and  night,  —  only  leave  me 
my  children,  and  I  will  fall  on  my  knees,  and  kiss  the  ground  you 
stand  on." 

The  scalding  tears  rose  in  her  eyes,  and  poured  down  her  face  ; 
and,  as  she  stood  with  her  arms  tightly  clasped  around  the  pale  and 
frightened  girl,  she  seemed  imploring  for  her  life.  But  she  implored 
one  who  had  no  heart  to  pity  or  to  spare. 

"  I  have  no  time  for  tirades,"  he  pettishly  answered.  "  Only  say, 
will  Patience  come  willingly  with  me  ?  "  And  he  tried  to  catch  hold 
of  her  arm.  Shaking  him  off,  wild  with  fright,  the  girl  sprang  behind 
Tabitha. 

"  Mother,  mother,  save  me  !  "  she  shrieked.  And  Tabitha,  her 
eyes  flaming,  and  her  hands  clinched,  stood  a  lioness  at  bay.  Christie, 
huddled  in  the  corner,  with  clasped  hands  and  horror-filled  eyes,  was 
praying  for  help.  Rex,  before  his  little  master,  stood  growling  angrily. 

A  motion  of  the  bishop's  hand  brought  the  two  men  to  his  side, 
and  they  stood  three  to  three.  But  what  unequal  warfare  !  Three 


230  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

strong  men  matched  against  one  woman,  a  terrified  girl,  and  a  dog. 
Poor,  helpless  Christie  could  only  bring  his  prayers  as  aid. 

"  That  girl  is  my  daughter.  I  command  her  to  go  home  with  me, 
and  she  refuses.  Take  her  to  the  carriage." 

It  is  a  curious  fact  of  the  power  of  Mormon  government,  however 
vile  the  crime  commanded,  there  is  never  any  hesitation  in  the  obedi 
ence.  These  men  were  not  absolute*  brutes.  They  knew  something 
of  Tabitha' s  history  ;  and,  though  it  was  not  an  uncommon  one,  it  was 
pitiful  enough.  Yet  at  the  command  of  Bishop  White,  a  hard  and 
cruel  man,  they  instantly  advanced  towards  Patience,  and  would  have 
carried  her  off  at  once,  but  that  Tabitha,  snatching  a  knife  from  the 
table,  stood  between  them  and  her  child. 

"  Come,  now,  missus,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "  let  the  girl  go  with 
her  father.  She's  willin'  enough  if  you'll  only  let  her." 

"  No,  no  !  "  shrieked  Patience.  "  I  am  not  willing.  Kill  me.  In 
mercy,  kill  me,  but  don't  take  me  to  that  man  !  " 

Fairly  grinding  his  teeth  with  rage,  Bishop  White  called  out,  — 

"  Will  you  men  do  my  bidding,  or  do  you  refuse  to  obey  me  ?  " 

Without  a  word  of  reply,  they  closed  on  Tabitha,  overpowering 
her.  Rex,  with  a  growl,  sprang  on  the  nearest  man,  and,  fastening 
his  teeth  in  his  arm,  forced  him  to  release  the  woman. 

Once  more  free,  once  more  Tabitha  rushed  to  her  child.  Rex's 
antagonist,  a  man  famous  for  his  strength,  clutching  the  dog  around 
the  neck,  called  to  the  other  man,  — 

"  Take  off  the  girl.     I'll  manage  the  dog." 

The  noble  brute  fought  long  and  well ;  but  finally,  almost  strangled, 
while  blood  streamed  from  his  nose,  and  oozed  out  even  from  his  eyes, 
was  flung,  as  if  dead,  at  the  feet  of  his  little  master.  Freed  from  the 
dog,  the  man  turned  to  help  his  less  powerful  confederate,  who  had 
found  it  no  easy  matter  alone  to  overpower  the  infuriated  mother. 

Grasping   her   knife,  ready   to   strike,  her   lips    drawn   away  from 


AN  ARCH-FIEND. 


231 


gleaming  teeth,  and  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets,  she  stood  be 
tween  her  child  and  the  two  ruffians,  —  between  her  child  and  what 
ever  horror  fate  held  in  store  for  her.  For  an  instant  the  two  men 
paused  as  if  awe-struck  at  this  frenzy  of  maternal  love.  Then,  the 


'TAKE  THE  GIRL." 


brutal  overcoming  the  moral,  the  stronger  flung  his  uninjured  arm 
around  her,  holding  her  powerless,  and  said  to  his  companion,  — 

"Take  the  girl." 

Resisting  with  all  her  strength,  and  shrieking  wildly,  Patience  was 
borne  along  the  garden  to  the  carriage.  Her  father  followed,  and, 
motioning  the  man  to  retain  hold  of  his  daughter,  the  three  drove  off. 


232  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

In  the  bright  daylight,  within  sight  and  sound  of  homes  where 
dwelt  mothers  and  their  children,  this  shrieking  girl  was  put  in  a  car 
riage,  driven  off,  and  not  one  human  face  appeared,  even  in  curiosity. 
Bishop  White  was  the  representative  of  the  Mormon  Church,  and  the 
people  were  all  good  Mormons. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  holding  Tabitha  so  tightened  his  grasp  that 
he  stopped  her  breathing.  Feeling  her  struggles  cease,  and  that  she 
became  a  dead  weight  in  his  arm,  he  put  her  in  a  chair,  and  looked 
around.  Desolation  where,  a  few  moments  before,  was  a  home,  — 
humble  and  poor,  but  a  home,  neat  and  cheerful.  In  one  corner,  a 
helpless  heap,  poor  little  Christie  lay,  more  dead  than  alive.  Close  to 
him,  covered  with  blood,  was  stretched  the  huge  form  of  Rex,  per 
fectly  motionless.  And  Tabitha,  on  the  chair,  with  glazed  eyes,  and 
half-opened  mouth,  from  which  the  red  drops  were  slowly  falling. 

"  Poor  critter  !  "  said  the  man,  "  you  fought  nobly  for  your  chick. 
I  didn't  mean  to  give  you  such  a  hard  squeeze,  and  I'm  sorry  I  was  in 
this  business  at  all.  But  I  just  had  to  do  it." 

Then  he  took  a  little  water,  washed  the  blood  from  her  mouth,  and, 
seeing  her  about  to  revive,  turned  to  go,  shaking  his  clinched  hand 
at  Rex  as  he  went,  muttering,  — 

"  You  ugly  brute  !  I'd  have  killed  you  outright,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  pale  face  of  that  wee  laddie  in  the  corner.  Somehow  he  jest 
brought  back  my  little  brother.  Dead  these  twenty  years,  but  I  grew 
soft-hearted."  Then,  with  a  glimmer  of  a  tear,  he  went  out  of  the 
cabin. 

Strange  contradiction  of  human  nature  !  The  man,  who,  a  few 
moments  before,  had  brutally  overpowered  a  mother  defending  her 
child  from  worse  than  death,  was  ready  to  weep  over  a  little  brother 
dead  twenty  years  ago. 

After  a  few  moments,  with  a  shudder,  Tabitha  came  back  to  the 
consciousness  of  her  desolated  home.  Staggering  to  her  feet,  she 


AN  ARCH-FIEND.  233 

looked  about  her.  Misery  everywhere  !  She  raised  her  hands,  and 
called  aloud,  — 

"God  protect  my  child!  God!  There  is  no  God,"  she  wildly 
cried,  "  or  this  crime  would  not  have  been  permitted."  Yet,  even  as 
she  uttered  this  mad  cry,  there  rose  a  protest  to  it  from  her  inner 
spirit,  barely  listened  to,  yet  felt  in  every  fibre  of  the  quivering,  suffer 
ing  heart.  To  each  intelligence  there  is  a  necessity  that  somewhere 
there  must  exist  a  beginning  and  an  end,  —  a  righting  of  wrongs,  a 
repayment  for  existence,  an  explanation  of  that,  the  least  understood, 
—  life. 

Standing  there,  with  dry  and  stony  eyes,  amidst  the  ruins  of  her 
home,  despair  clutched  her  heart  with  iron  hands.  Wild  plans  to 
rescue  Patience  chased  each  other  through  her  maddened  brain.  She 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  else,  even  Christie,  until  his  voice  called 
her  to  his  side.  He  looked  frail  as  a  snow-wreath  in  the  dark  corner  ; 
and,  catching  him  to  her  bosom,  she  almost  prayed  he  would  die. 

"Then  he  will  be  safe,"  she  thought. 

How  thankful  she  would  feel,  if,  at  this  moment,  she  could  close 
the  coffin-lid  over  the  dead  face  of  her  Patience  ! 

"Mother,"  said  Christie,  "let  us  go  to  Matthew." 

"  Matthew  !  "  At  his  name  her  faith  rose  triumphant  from  its 
ashes.  Lifting  up  Christie,  she  nearly  fell  over  Rex.  He  was  still 
lying  motionless. 

"  Is  he  dead  ? "  whispered  the  child. 

She  put  her  hand  over  his  heart.  Finding  it  still  beating,  she 
dashed  water  on  the  faithful  fellow,  and  waited  a  little  until  he  moved. 

Christie  called  him  by  name.  At  the  loved  voice,  the  dog  strug 
gled  to  rise,  and,  weakly  walking,  followed  his  little  master,  as,  in 
Tabitha's  arms,  he  was  carried  to  Matthew's. 


234 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

IN    DEADLY    PERIL. 

'HRISTINE   and    Matthew,   in    the  sunny  parlor, 
were  planning  the  moving  of  their  little  colony  to 
the  mining-camp  where  Martin  was  at  work.    The 
greater  points  had  all  been  settled,  and  written 
to  Martin  ;  and  now  they  were  discussing  some 
minor  details.     Christine  had  just  said,  "  Tabitha, 
I   am   sure,   will   be   content,   and    Patience   de 
lighted,"  when,  looking  up,  she  saw  Tabitha,  with 
Christie  in  her  arms,  hurrying  towards  them.     Her 
pallid  face,  dishevelled  hair,  and  blood-stained  lips, 
told  of  some  fearful  excitement.     Following  at  a  little 
distance,  hardly  able  to  crawl,  was  Rex. 

At  Christine's  exclamation,  Matthew  had  looked  out  the  window. 
Starting  to  their  feet,  some  faint  conception  of  the  horror  dawned 
upon  them,  as  they  both  exclaimed,  — 

"  Patience  !  "     It  was  some  evil  to  her,  they  knew.     But  what  ? 
Matthew  and    Christine   rushed    to  the  door ;    Christine   catching 
Christie    in    her   arms,    as   Tabitha,    breathless,    staggered    forwards. 
Matthew  put  out  his  arm  to  steady  her,  and  tried  to  understand  the 
disconnected  words  she  gasped  out  :  — 

"  Quick  —  help  —  Patience  —  carried  off  —  her  father  !  " 
The  old  man  turned  white  and   faint.     Was   it    possible  for  such 
depravity  to  exist  ?      Then  forcing  the  exhausted  woman  in  a  chair, 


IN  DEADLY  PERIL.  235 

and  telling  her  to  recover  breath,  and  speak  more  clearly,  so  he  could 
help  her,  he  waited,  with  his  hand  pressed  on  his  heart,  as  if  that  heart 
could  not  endure  its  pain  at  such  inhuman  wickedness. 

"  Christie,  dear,"  said  Christine,  "  tell  us  what  is  wrong,  so  we  can 
do  something  to  aid  you." 

Raising  his  eyes  to  Christine's  face,  he  told  the  sad  story  of  Pa 
tience's  abduction  ;  and  Tabitha's  excitement,  Rex's  weakness,  and  his 
own  failing  strength,  told  the  rest. 

"  Christine,"  said  Matthew,  "  we  must  have  a  power  greater  than 
Bishop  White's  to  force  him  to  give  up  the  child.  I  will  write  a  tele 
gram  to  John  Smith.  I  believe  he  will  come  ;  and  without  scandal, 
delay,  or  enraging  the  Mormons,  he  can  manage  it." 

Christine  knew  the  truth  of  this.  She  knew  personal  influence 
was  their  only  hope.  For  a  moment  they  discussed  the  sending  of  the 
message.  They  both  knew  Matthew  was  the  only  present  help  of 
the  poor  girl.  His  presence  might  be  some  restraint  on  Bishop  White. 
He  could,  at  least,  watch  if  she  were  sent  away  from  the  town.  He 
dared  not  leave.  He  dared  not  trust  the  message  to  one  of  his  hired 
help.  Some  one  must  take  it  in  whom  they  could  trust.  Where  was 
that  one  ? 

"  Father,"  —  and  Christine  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  door,  — 
"  I  will  drive  the  buggy  to  the  station,  send  the  telegram,  and  wait 
for  the  answer." 

He  looked  at  her  in  doubt.  So  lately  recovered  from  illness,  and 
still  feeble,  dared  he  let  her  go  ?  She  smiled  back  at  him  a  brave, 
determined  smile,  and  went  quickly  for  her  hat  and  cloak  while  he 
wrote  the  message.  It  was  only  a  few  words  :  — 


To  Hon.  JOHN  SMITH,  Salt-Lake  City. 

"  In  great  trouble.     Can  you  come  at  once  ?     Answer. 

"  MATTHEW   KLEIGWALD." 


236  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

When  he  had  harnessed  the  horse,  and  brought  him  to  the  house, 
he  found  Christine  waiting  at  the  gate. 

"  I've  the  message  in  my  pocket,  father.  Don't  worry.  I  may 
have  to  wait  some  time.  Indeed,  I  am  quite  strong  enough,"  she  said, 
answering  his  anxious  look. 

It  was  not  a  moment  for  hesitation  when  one  who  was  helpless 
stood  in  deadly  peril.  So  he  kissed  his  darling,  committed  her  to  God's 
care,  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  vanishing  buggy,  and 
the  figure  sitting  so  bravely  upright.  He  did  not  imagine  what  an 
effort  his  child  was  making,  and  that  she  was  trembling,  and  her  head 
swimming  from  weakness.  Coming  back  to  the  house,  he  told  Tab- 
itha  to  attend  to  Christie,  and  that  he  would  see  if  he  could  accomplish 
any  thing  with  Bishop  White. 

"  You  know  where  every  thing  is  kept.  Eat  something.  Keep  up 
your  strength,  or  you  will  be  a  hinderance,  and  not  a  help,  to  the  poor 
child  who  needs  us  all." 

Tabitha's  tears  were  falling  fast.  This  friend  who  had  never  failed 
her,  this  noble,  uncomplaining  Christian,  who  now  took  on  his  shoul 
ders  the  burden  of  her  woes,  was  a  silent  reproach  to  her  own  wild 
despair. 

Taking  his  hat,  Matthew  started,  but,  turning  before  he  left  the 
room,  came  back  to  Tabitha,  as  if  divining  her  need. 

"  My  sister,  your  trouble  is  great  ;  but,  terrible  as  it  is,  there  is  a 
God  above  us,  —  a  God  who  loves  us.  Why  he  permits  such  bitter 
woe,  we  cannot  understand.  But  suffering,  dying,  we  must  believe. 
Could  my  old  life  be  taken  for  thy  child's,  I  would  gladly  offer  it.  If 
we  save  her,  or  if  we  lose  her,  even  though  our  hearts  be  breaking,  we 
must  say,  '  Thy  will  be  done.' ' 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  bowed  head  ;  and  then  with  a  loving  look 
for  Christie,  whose  great  eyes  were  watching  him,  he  left  them,  and 
hastened  down  the  road  to  Bishop  White's. 


IN  DEADL  Y  PERIL.  237 

In  their  hearts,  both  Tabitha  and  Christie  \vere  praying.  The  child 
seemed  daily  fading  away  ;  and,  since  the  horrors  of  the  morning,  he 
looked  more  spirit-like  than  ever.  Lying  on  the  lounge,  the  blue  veins 
showing  through  the  white,  transparent  skin,  the  large  gray  eyes 
upturned  in  prayer,  and  the  wan  hands  crossed  on  his  breast,  he  was 
nearer  heaven  than  earth. 

Seeing  him  thus,  as  she  looked  up  through  her  tears,  Tabitha 
remembered,  with  a  pang,  that  he  had  not  tasted  food  since  sunrise  ; 
and  now  it  was  afternoon.  She  hastily  brought  some  nourishment 
for  him,  but  the  little  fellow  could  hardly  take  a  mouthful.  Earthly 
nourishment  was  not  fitted  for  one  so  near  the  gate  of  heaven,  that 
surely  stood  ajar  for  him.  Suffering  more  than  one  in  health  could 
imagine,  he  lay  quiet,  uncomplaining,  praying  for  his  mother,  his  sister, 
and  the  other  dear  ones,  whose  sorrows  lacerated  his  loving  heart. 
And  yet  those  holy  prayers  seemed  unrewarded.  Were  they  unre 
warded  ?  Will  not  they,  like  heavenly  germs,  fall  on  those  who  have 
the  power  to  right  the  wronged,  and,  taking  root,  send  out  healing 
balm  ? 

Watching,  praying,  the  hour  wore  away  ;  and,  after  a  little,  Matthew 
came  back  —  alone. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  asked  the  mother  ;  even  in  her  own  anguish 
noticing  that  the  old  man  looked  worn  and  feeble,  and,  half  falling 
into  a  chair,  passed  his  hand  over  his  head  several  times,  as  if  to 
steady  his  thoughts  before  speaking. 

"  My  sister,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  seen  both  Bishop  and  Mrs. 
White.  They  told  me  Patience  was  in  the  house,  and  had  fallen 
asleep  after  a  good  lunch  ;  that  she  professed  herself  quite  contented 
to  remain  with  her  father." 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  said  Tabitha,  rising  in  her  wrath. 

"Yes,"  said  Matthew,  "I  am  afraid  it  is.  But  —  and  I  tried  to 
take  comfort  in  this  —  Mrs.  White  followed  me  to  the  door,  and 


238  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

assured  me  she  would  look  after  Patience  as  if  she  were  her  own 
child." 

"  And  did  you  believe  her  ?  "  asked  Tabitha. 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  I  did,"  answered  Matthew  sadly. 

"  Matthew,  that  woman  is  the  cruellest,  the  falsest,  in  the  world. 
I  have  known  her  to  torture  animals,  and  be  amused  by  their  writh- 
ings.  I  have  known  her  to  laugh  at,  and  enjoy,  human  misery  that 
would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone.  I  have  known  her,  with  a  lie  on 
her  lips,  call  God  to  witness  her  truth.  Oh  that  my  child  should  be 
cast  upon  the  pity  of  such  as  she  !  I  must  go  to  her.  I  must  see 
my  child." 

"  My  poor  Tabitha,"  said  Matthew,  "  I  fear  you  will  not  move  her. 
Wait  until  Christine  returns  with  Mr.  Smith's  answer.  If  he  comes, 
her  prison-doors  will  open.  Bishop  White  dare  not  oppose  one  so  much 
more  powerful  than  he." 

In  almost  utter  stillness  the  three  sat  waiting,  while  the  hours 
dragged  their  slow  length  along.  Darkness,  like  a  pall,  covered  the 
most  miserable  day  of  their  lives.  It  was  quite  late  when  the  faint 
sound  of  wheels  told  them  Christine  was  coming. 

"  Take  me  too,"  said  Christie  faintly,  as,  unable  to  wait  longer, 
Matthew  and  Tabitha  started  to  meet  the  approaching  succor.  It 
was  Matthew  who  took  the  child  in  his  arms,  motioning  Tabitha  to 
go  first. 

They  stood  at  the  gate,  straining  their  ears  to  catch  the  faintest 
sound.  The  night  was  very  dark,  —  so  dark  they  could  hardly  see 
each  other's  faces,  —  and  it  was  bitter  cold.  Waiting  in  breathless 
anxiety,  the  howling  wind  seemed  to  mock  them.  They  could  no 
longer  distinguish  the  approach  of  wheels. 

"  We  were  mistaken,"  said  Matthew. 

And  a  fresh  anxiety  crowded  in  his  aching  heart.  Perhaps  his 
child,  overpowered  by  weakness,  had  lost  control  of  the  horse.  Per- 


IN  DEADLY  PERIL.  239 

haps  she  now  lay  helplessly  perishing  on  some  lonely  wayside.  At 
this  thought;  beads  of  sweat  rolled  down  his  face.  One  fell  on  Chris 
tie's  hand,  that  clasped  the  old  man's  neck.  The  child  thought 
Matthew  was  crying,  and  his  own  tears  rose  in  sympathy.  Then, 
leaning  his  head  against  the  loved  face  of  this  more  than  father, 
Christie  heard  him  murmur,  — 

"'Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

It  echoed  in  the  child's  pure  heart,  and  seemed  to  quiet  the  inces 
sant  pain  of  the  poor  little  body.  Standing  there  in  the  darkness, 
while  the  sweat  of  his  agonizing  fears  rolled  over  his  face,  and  froze 
in  drops  upon  his  breast,  Matthew  was  tenderly  sheltering  in  his  arms 
a  helpless  lamb,  was  meekly  bowing  his  soul  in  submission  to  God's 
will. 

Presently  Rex,  who  had  followed  them  from  the  house,  and  who 
seemed  quite  restored  by  his  day's  rest,  began  to  bark.  And  now, 
through  the  howling  of  the  wind,  they  heard  the  distinct  sound  of  a 
rapidly  approaching  vehicle.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  came.  Brighter 
and  brighter  grew  their  hopes.  As  the  buggy  came  in  sight,  Matthew, 
wrapping  Christie  warmly,  gave  him  to  his  mother,  and  stood  ready  to* 
help  Christine. 

She  needed  help.  With  a  face  so  white  it  gleamed  in  the  dark 
ness,  stiffened  hands  still  grasping  the  reins,  she  was  powerless  to 
help  herself.  Strengthened  by  his  mighty  love,  Matthew  took  her  in 
his  arms  as  if  she  were  still  a  child,  and  carried  her  into  the  sitting- 
room.  He  poured  a  little  wine  between  the  purple  lips,  chafed  her 
cold  hands,  and  tried  to  bring  back  some  strength  to  the  exhausted 
girl.  Her  eyes  seemed  the  only  living  members  of  her  almost  frozen 
body.  And  those  eyes,  so  utterly  sad  and  pitiful,  told  them,  before 
a  word  was  spoken,  that  the  errand  had  been  fruitless.  Pinned  to  her 
breast  was  the  answer  to  the  telegram.  Long  before  she  could  speak, 
Christine's  eyes  had  directed  their  attention  to  it. 


240  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Read  it,  Matthew.     I  cannot,"  said  Tabitha. 

"  MATTHEW  KLEIGWALD,  G ,  Utah. 

"  J.  S.  in  Washington.     Telegram  forwarded. 


T.   WARD." 


Poor  Tabitha  !  She  hardly  knew  how  much  she  had  hoped  until 
now.  And  the  others  of  this  sorrowful  little  band,  in  whose  hearts 
each  throb  of  the  mother's  anguish  found  echo  !  They  looked  at  each 
other  in  blank  dismay.  Eight  days  must  pass  before  Mr.  Smith  could 
reach  them,  even  if  he  came  ;  and  the  chances  of  his  coming  were 
very  weak.  What  was  to  be  done  now  ?  There  was  no  law  in  the 
town  for  them  to  appeal  to.  In  the  person  of  Bishop  White  was 
vested  all  the  law  thought  necessary  for  the  protection  of  life  and 
safety.  They  could  hope  nothing  from  their  neighbors.  Though  they 
might  die  at  their  feet,  there  would  not  be  one  brave  enough  to  extend 
the  helping  hand,  and  incur  the  curses  and  punishment  of  the  Mormon 
Church.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 

"  Matthew,  Matthew !  I  must  go  to  the  house  where  my  child  is 
hidden.  What  may  she  not  be  suffering?  " 

And  the  poor  mother  started  to  her  feet,  as  horror  upon  horror 
rose  before  her  frighted  fancy. 

"  Then,  Tabitha,  I  will  go  with  you.  I  may  not  be  able  to  protect 
you  from  insult  or  injury,  but  I  can  share  them  with  you." 

So  Christie  remained  with  Christine,  Rex  keeping  guard,  while 
Tabitha  and  Matthew  made  the  sad  pilgrimage  to  Patience's  prison. 

The  night  was  still  very  cold  ;  but  the  wind  had  blown  away  the 
clouds,  and  a  wintry  moon  was  looking  down  upon  the  sins  and  sor 
rows  of  the  world.  It  was  a  goodly  residence,  the  house  of  Bishop 
White,  with  its  well-built  out-houses  and  large  grounds.  There  was 
not  a  glimmer  of  light  anywhere  to  be  seen.  Every  thing  seemed 
peacefully  sleeping. 

God  in  heaven  !  could  they  be  sleeping,  while,  out  in  that  freezing 


IN  DEADLY  PERIL. 


241 


cold,   a  mother  was   seeking  her   child,  —  a  mother  whom  they  had 
robbed  ?     Tabitha  walked  to  every  window,  calling,  — 

"  Patience,  Patience  !     Answer  !     I  am  here,  —  your  mother  !  " 
And,  at  her  side,  Matthew,  listening  as  she  listened,   looking  as 
she  looked,  for  some  faint  sign  in  answer.     Nothing  but  the  moaning 
of  the  wind. 

All  around  the  house,  to  every  out-house,  she  went  with  the  same  sad 
call.    And  no  answer  came  to  her.     Not  a  sound  to  tell  there  was  a  living 

creature  in  the  whole  place. 
Finally  Matthew,  tak 
ing  her  hand,  led 
her  away. 


"CHRISTINE  WAS  KNEELING  AT  HIS  SIDE." 


"Sister,   come  back 
to    Christie    and    Christine. 
I  fear  to  anger  Bishop  White 
to   more   cruelties  if   we  con 
tinue  here  to-night.     To-morrow  morning  we  will  return  again." 

So  back  to  the  other  two  watchers  toiled  these  weary  pilgrims. 
They  found  Christie  still  on  the  sofa.  One  could  see  the  sands  of  his 
feeble  life  were  running  low.  Even  these  few  hours  had  made  a 
change  in  him. 

Christine,  holding  his  hand,  was  kneeling  at  his  side  ;  and  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  He  had  been  telling  her  his  "vision,"  and  his 
face  shone  with  the.  glory  he  had  been  trying  to  describe.  She  had 


242  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

read  the  vision  word  for  word.  Matthew  kept  it  as  his  mark  in  the 
Bible.  But  to  hear  Christie  tell  it  in  his  low,  sweet  voice  ;  to  watch 
his  eyes  dilate,  and  grow  more  and  more  like  angels'  ;  and  to  know  the 
hot  little  hands,  nervously  clasping  hers,  would  soon  be  stilled  in  death, 
—  made  his  vision  seem  a  real  thing.  And  feeling  he  was  every  hour 
nearing  that  beautiful  place  of  his  dream,  made  her  cling  to  him  with 
all  the  more  tenderness. 

"  O  Christine,  if  you  only  knew  the  comfort  that  vision  has  been 
to  me  !  When  I  see  my  mother  frantic  with  grief,  and  know  Patience 
is  in  some  awful  danger  ;  when  I  look  into  your  face,  dear,  and  read 
the  story  of  your  sorrow  ;  even  Matthew,  like  as  he  is  to  the  Saviour, 
suffers  equally  with  us;  and  my  dear,  absent  brother," — here  the 
faint  voice  faltered,  and  then  went  on,  —  "  when  I  think  of  each  one 
whom  I  love,  my  vision  comes  before  me,  and  I  seem  to  hear  God's 
voice  saying,  '  Be  patient,  Christie.  It  is  not  for  long.  Soon  you  shall 
be  happy,  and  all  you  love  be  with  you.' ' 

While  he  was  speaking,  his  face  became  glorified.  His  eyes  seemed 
looking  at  the  world  beyond.  The  nervous  little  hands  grew  quite  still ; 
and  Christine,  believing  he  was  dying,  fell  on  her  knees  at  his  side. 
Thus  they  were  when  Matthew  and  Tabitha  entered.  The  child's  face 
looked  so  unearthly,  that,  with  a  cry,  his  mother  ran  towards  him. 
She,  too,  thought  he  was  dying.  But,  smiling  at  her,  he  kissed  her 
hand,  that  was  near  him,  then  lay  quite  still  again,  while  his  face  shone 
with  the  light  of  heavenly  peace. 


MERCY!     MERCY! 


243 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

MERCY !       MERCY ! 

|OW  the  night  passed  they  could  hardly  tell.  None  went 
to  bed,  and  none  could  sleep.  Tabitha  started  up 
again  and  again,  saying  she  must  go  home.  Perhaps 
Patience  was  there  waiting  for  her.  But  each  time 
Christie  would  say,  — 

"  Take   me,  too,  mother.     I  cannot  let   you  leave 
me." 

And  she  would  remain.     She  feared  to  take  him 
out  in  the  bitter  night,  and  back  to  the  cold  cabin. 
She  could  not  shorten  his  life  by  one  moment.     Pitiful 
as  life  was,   she  was  a   mother,  and  would  not  part 
from  her  child. 

The  morning  came,  and  found  them  still  keeping  their  sad  vigil. 
With  the  morning  hope  arose.  It  is  wonderful  the  hopes  the  morning 
brings.  Things  that  look  dark  and  hopeless  during  the  wakeful  hours 
of  the  weary  night,  lose  half  their  terrors  under  morning's  shining. 
So  it  was  with  Tabitha.  Thankfully  taking  a  cup  of  tea,  she  kissed 
Christie,  and  started  off  once  more  to  Bishop  White's. 

All  along  the  road  she  was  telling  herself  over  and  over  again  what 
she  would  say  to  him.  She  would  try  to  look  pleasant,  and  ask  just 
to  see  Patience  for  a  few  minutes  ;  and  then,  once  with  her  arms 
around  her  child,  she  would  plead  with  him  as  father,  as  man,  so  that 
he  could  not  resist  her.  Tired  as  she  was,  the  bright  sunshine,  tem- 


244  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

pering  the  cold  air,  invigorated  her  ;  and,  by  the  time  she  had  nearly 
reached  the  house,  she  felt  she  had  been  needlessly  miserable,  —  that, 
in  a  few  moments,  all  would  be  well  with  her.  Filled  with  these 
hopes,  she  hurried  on,  and  reached  the  gate  as  Bishop  White  was 
coming  out.  Her  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment,  and  then  gave  a 
great  throb. 

"  Courage,    courage ! "    she   whispered   to   herself,    and   then   said 

aloud,  — 

• 

"  Good-morning/' 

She  tried  to  smile  ;  but  her  face  worked  convulsively,  and  her  voice 
sounded  hollow  and  unnatural.  The  bishop,  redder,  fatter,  wickeder 
than  ever,  looked  at  her  for  a  moment ;  his  cruel  little  eyes  gloating 
over  her  excitement. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  "  he  said  gruffly. 

Another  sickening  throb  of  the  poor  mother-heart,  another  ghastly 
attempt  at  a  smile. 

"  I  came  to  see  our  daughter  Patience,  just  for  a  moment." 

She  was  determined  to  conciliate  ;  and,  though  the  "  our  "  nearly 
choked  her,  she  said  it  bravely. 

"  Our  !  "  sneered  the  bishop.  "  I'm  glad  you  recognize  she  is  not 
wholly  yours." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  ever  seemed  to  forget  it,"  answered  Tabitha. 

She  had  begun  to  shake  with  nervousness  ;  and  black  spots,  mov 
ing  before  her  eyes,  almost  hid  his  cruel,  sneering  face.  She  put  her 
hand  on  the  fence  to  keep  her  from  falling,  as  trees,  earth,  and  sky 
seemed  whirling  around  in  a  mad  dance. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  the  sneering  voice,  "  that  you've  not  taught 
'  our'  daughter  Patience  to  obey  her  father." 

"  Forgive  me.     I  will  do  better,  only  let  me  see  her." 

She  could  scarcely  articulate,  her  throat  was  becoming  so  very  dry, 
and  her  tongue  fairly  cleaving  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth. 


MERCY!     MERCY!  245 

"  How  meek  and  humble  we've  grown  !  "  the  sneering  voice  went 
on.  "  But  meekness  won't  answer,  my  sweet  Tabitha.  I  cannot  just 
yet  permit  you  to  see  '  our  daughter  Patience/  ' 

And  he  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  said  it. 

"  Not  see  her  !     Oh,  surely  you  will  not  refuse  me  that !  " 

He  turned  to  go.  She  tried  to  catch  hold  of  his  sleeve  to  make 
him  listen  to  her ;  and,  as  he  stepped  back,  she  fell  in  the  snow  at  his 
feet.  She  could  see  nothing  now.  All  was  black  before  her  eyes,  and 
a  roaring  sound  in  her  ears  made  even  her  own  voice  indistinct ;  but 
she  had  caught  the  edge  of  his  coat,  and  held  it  fast. 

"  Hear  me."  She  spoke  very  loud  to  be  heard,  for  the  roaring 
was  so  great.  "  Only  let  my  child  go  free,  and  I  swear  never  again  to 
look  upon  her  face.  If  you  are  keeping  her  away  from  me  because 
you  hate  me,  will  not  that  satisfy  you  ? " 

He  did  not  answer.  Then,  in  a  frenzy  of  despair,  she  raised  her 
face,  and,  looking  at  him  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing,  she  shrieked 
out,  - 

"  Tear  me  limb  from  limb,  put  out  my  eyes  with  burning  coals, 
torture  me  to  the  utmost  of  your  will,  only  spare  my  child,  and,  while 
breath  is  left,  I  will  bless  you." 

"  Stop  your  twaddle,  you  old  fool  !  "  said  the  bishop.  "  Do  you 
suppose  I  want  any  thing  of  you  ?  I  was  tired  of  you  long  ago,  and 
I  won't  be  kept  out  here  in  the  cold  to  listen  to  you.  Let  go  !  " 

And  he  tried  to  pull  away  his  coat  ;  but  she  held  on  tight,  and 
crept  closer  to  him. 

"  Listen,"  she  gasped.  "  Injure  that  child,  and,  sure  as  there  is  a 
God  above,  I  will  haunt  you  to  your  dying  day.  You  shall  never  know 
a  quiet  sleep.  Between  you  and  your  every  comfort  will  rise  the  face 
of  the  woman  you  are  killing." 

She  looked  terrible  as  she  crouched  there  in  the  snow,  clutching  his 
coat  until  every  bone  in  her  hand  seemed  about  to  break  the  skin  ; 


246  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

her  wild  eyes  staring  at  him,  her  face  ghastly,  and  upon  her  lips  a 
red  froth,  while  her  breath  came  in  gasps.  He  was  a  superstitious 
man,  and  might  have  yielded  to  the  fear,  that,  as  he  gazed  at  her, 
seemed  to  strike  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones  ;  but  just  then  the  door 
of  the  house  opened,  Mrs.  White  appeared,  and  his  hellish  impulse 
was  re-enforced. 

"  Fool !  "  he  said.  "  Do  you  suppose  you  can  frighten  me  ?  You 
shall  not  see  the  girl  until  I  choose  to  let  you.  If,  however,  she  is  at 
all  like  her  mother,  I  think  you  may  count  upon  having  your  daughter 
Patience  very  soon.  A  week  will  let  me  see  enough  of  her." 

And  again  he  chuckled,  as,  with  a  twist  and  jerk,  he  pulled  him 
self  free  ;  and  Tabitha  fell  upon  her  face  in  the  snow.  The  cold 
seemed  to  revive  her  ;  for  she  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  stood  repeat 
ing  his  last  words. 

"  What  did  he  mean  ?  "  She  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  head  to 
stop  its  whirling.  She  needed  every  faculty  now.  She  took  a  little 
snow  from  the  fence,  and  put  it  to  her  mouth  ;  and  she  noticed,  when 
she  took  her  hand  away,  there  was  blood  upon  it.  She  felt  so  dazed, 
that,  as  she  tried  to  step,  the  snow-covered  earth  seemed  rising  to 
strike  her  in  the  face.  But  she  must  get  to  the  house. 

There  was  a  woman  there,  —  a  false  and  cruel  one,  she  knew  ;  but 
perhaps  a  woman,  though  a  cruel  one,  would  easier  feel  for  a  mother's 
agony.  Like  one  half  blind,  she  staggered  up  the  walk,  and,  breath 
less,  sank  upon  the  steps.  Up,  up.  No  time  to  waste.  She  must 
save  her  child.  Half  dragging,  half  creeping,  she  reached  the  door, 
and,  grasping  the  knob  with  one  hand,  with  the  other  raised  the 
knocker.  It  fell  with  a  feeble  clang,  the  door  opened  wide,  and  Mrs. 
White  stood  blandly  smiling  down  on  the  woman  she  had  hated  for 
years. 

Hated  for  what  ?  Because  she  had  injured  her.  She  had  come 
to  this  woman's  home,  had  robbed  her  of  her  rights,  had  driven  her  to 


MERCY!     MERCY!  247 

a  toilsome  life,  but  never  yet  had  she  been  able  to  make  her  bow  before 
her,  or  yield  one  jot  of  her  pride.  Now  she  was  at  her  feet.  And 
the  bland  smile  on  the  ruddy  face  widened  as  she  looked  on  the 
picture. 

"  Upon  whom  did  you  call  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  White,  enjoying  her 
own  irony. 

"  I  want  my  child,"  gasped  Tabitha. 

"  I  regret  to  refuse  your  modest  request  ;  but,  really,  you  can't 
have  her." 

"  Mercy,  mercy  ! "  moaned  Tabitha.  "  As  you  have  a  soul  to  be 
saved  !  " 

Her  strength  was  almost  gone.  She  could  not  speak  ;  but,  with  a 
last  effort,  she  threw  out  her  arms,  and  clasped  Mrs.  White  around 
her  knees.  It  was  a  feeble  clasp  ;  and,  easily  shaking  it  off,  Mrs. 
White  stepped  back  ;  and,  as  Tabitha  fell,  she  called  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  Thomas  !  Fred  !  "  and  then,  "  My  gracious,  that  blood  will  stain  the 
porch  !  " 

She  pulled  off  her  apron,  putting  it  at  Tabitha's  mouth,  from  which 
the  blood  was  slowly  oozing.  Then,  calling  louder  and  more  impa 
tiently,  two  heavy-looking  lads  came  to  the  side  of  the  house.  They 
had  evidently  been  eating,  and  moved  slowly  as  if  not  relishing  the 
interruption. 

"  Here,  you  lazy  things  !  Take  up  this  woman,  and  put  her  out 
side  of  the  fence.  She's  had  a  fit.  But  wait  a  minute,"  she  said, 
and,  going  into  the  house,  returned  with  a  little  brandy.  Wiping 
away  the  blood  with  the  apron,  she  tore  off  a  little  piece,  soaked  it 
with  the  liquor,  and  forced  it  in  Tabitha's  mouth.  "  Now  take  her." 

The  two  boys  picked  up  Tabitha  as  if  she  had  been  a  piece  of 
wood,  and  obeyed  the  directions  of  their  bishop's  wife. 

Mrs.  White  watched  them  until  they  returned  whence  they  had 
come,  and  then,  shivering  with  cold,  and  saying  to  herself,  "  It  would 


248  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

be  very  unpleasant  to  have  her  die  here,"  went  into  her  comfortable 
house,  and  shut  the  door.  She  had  not  one  pitiful  thought  for  the 
poor  creature  out  on  the  snowy  road. 

After  a  little,  revived  by  the  few  drops  of  brandy  and  the  bitter 
cold,  Tabitha  came  back  to  consciousness.  What  should  she  do  now  ? 
She  had  no  hope  of  the  slightest  mercy  from  either  the  bishop  or  his 
wife.  She  could  not  force  her  way  in  the  house,  and  take  away  her 
child. 

Perhaps  Matthew,  who  had  been  so  good  to  so  many,  perhaps  he 
could  raise  a  few  men,  and  they,  moved  by  her  misery,  might  free  the 
innocent  girl  ;  for,  if  any  thing  like  public  sentiment  could  be  made  in 
her  favor,  Bishop  White  would  be  forced  to  give  up  Patience.  If  any 
man  could  rouse  the  Mormons  against  their  bishop,  it  would  be  Mat 
thew,  who  had  spent  years  in  serving  them.  And  at  this  hope,  forlorn 
as  it  was,  she  struggled  to  her  feet,  and  tottered  towards  the  road  that 
led  to  her  cabin. 


A   HERO. 


249 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

A    HERO. 

EFORE  starting  to  Bishop  White's,  Tabitha  had 
asked  Matthew  and  Christine  to  meet  her  at  her 
own  house  ;  and  they  concluded,  under  any  circum 
stances,  she  would  be  more  comfortable  there.  Mat 
thew  walked  to  the  cabin,  made  the  fire,  and,  as 
best  he  could,  removed  the  signs  of  yesterday's  des 
perate  struggle  before  going  for  Christie  and  Chris 
tine. 

As  soon  as  they  arrived,  Christine  prepared  a 
simple  meal,  and  kept  it  warm  for  Tabitha's  return. 
Growing  anxious  as  time  Vent  on,  and  she  did  not 
come,  Matthew  started  off  to  seek  her. 

He  had  not  gone  very  far,  when,  with  ghastly  face,  and  tottering 
as  if  every  step  would  be  her  last,  came  Tabitha.  Forgetting  his 
years,  forgetting  the  growing  feebleness  that  had  so  increased  these 
last  terrible  days,  Matthew  ran  towards  the  unhappy  woman,  and  put 
his  arm  around  her. 

"  Don't  try  to  speak.  When  we  reach  your  cabin,  you  can  tell  me 
easier  and  better." 

And  tenderly  as  a  mother  with  a  feeble  child  did  he  guide  her 
staggering,  uncertain  steps.  They  reached  the  cabin  exhausted. 
Christine  had  the  door  open,  and  two  chairs  near  the  fire ;  Christie 
watching  her  wistfully.  How  he  longed  to  help  in  this  time  of  trouble  ! 


250 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


As  he  entered,  Matthew  looked  so  very  pale  that  Christine  brought 
him  something  warm. 

"  Tabitha  first,"  he  said. 

Putting  the  cup  of  tea  on  a  chair  near  him,  Christine  went  to  her. 
Tabitha  took  eagerly  what  was  given.     She  forced  herself  to  swallow 

food.  She  was  anxious  to  gain 
more  strength,  that  she  might 
help  her  child. 

When    Tabitha    felt    a    little 
stronger,  and   could   control  her 
self,   she   told   the   result   of   her 
visit. 

"  O  Matthew  !  Could  you 
not  raise  a  few  men  from 
among  the  many  you  have 
helped?  With  their  back 
ing,  we  could  go  to  Bishop 
White's,  and  demand  my 
child." 

"Sister,"  Matthew 
answered  sadly,  "  on 
my  way  to  seek  you,  I 
stopped  at  two  cabins, 
and  asked  the  help  of 
men,  who,  when  last  I 

saw  them,  told  me  they  would  answer  with  their  lives  if  ever  I  needed 
them.  They  were  both  very  sorry,  but  said  they  could  not  battle 
against  the  Mormon  Church.  And  when  I  assured  them  no  power 
under  heaven  could  uphold  a  man  in  forcing  from  her  mother  a  girl 
of  eighteen,  as  this  unnatural  father  has  done,  they  answered,  even 
should  we  go  and  represent  the  case  to  the  Mormon  authorities, 


TENDERLY   AS   A    MOTHER    DID    HE   GUIDE    HER   STEPS." 


A   HERO.  251 

we  would  not  be  believed.  The  bishop's  word  would  outweigh  our 
testimony  with  these  authorities,  who  appointed,  and  would  uphold, 
him. 

"  The  only  way  I  can  see  to  help  the  poor  child,  is  to  go  to  Salt- 
Lake  City,  and  lay  the  case  before  the  United-States  court.  The 
daily  train  leaves  every  morning.  Keep  quiet,  and  husband  all  your 
strength  for  the  trip.  Together  we  will  go  to  the  judge,  and  pray 
for  immediate  help.  I  will  call  for  you  at  six  o'clock.  We  will 
be  away  only  a  few  days.  Christie,  dear,  you  will  stay  with 
Christine.  Whatever  the  consequences  may  be,  we  must  free  Pa 
tience." 

Convinced  that  this  was  the  only  way,  Tabitha  promised  to  rest 
most  of  the  day,  and  to  take  all  the  nourishment  she  could.  Then  at 
her  own  desire,  first  doing  all  they  could  for  her  and  Christie's  com 
fort,  they  left  them. 

Matthew  concluded  time  would  be  saved  if  a  clear,  written  state 
ment  of  the  case  be  prepared,  and  presented  to  the  judge.  In  all  his 
life  he  had  never  been  in  a  court,  and  was  ignorant  of  the  processes 
of  law.  Moreover,  having  lived  so  many  years  among  the  Mormons, 
he  had  seen  numerous  instances  of  the  almost  absolute  power  of  their 
government.  He  knew  of  the  existence  of  this  United-States  court. 
He  knew  any  appeal  to  it  was  bitterly  resented  by  the  Mormons,  and 
the  instigators  relentlessly  pursued.  He  had  heard  of  rare  instances 
of  Mormons  being  forced  to  appeal  to  this  court,  and,  while  the  objects 
of  the  appeal  were  generally  protected  from  Mormon  vengeance,  the 
instigators  never  escaped.  Their  fate  had  generally  been  mysterious 
disappearance,  or  found  dead  ;  or,  by  some  strange  accident,  their 
house  would  be  burned,  and  their  family  cast  penniless  upon  a  com 
munity  forbidden  to  succor  them.  Matthew  knew  full  well  the  risk 
he  was  running,  the  dangers  he  would  incur.  But  duty  commanded, 
and  he  obeyed.  He  was  ready  to  stand  as  instigator.  He  was  ready 


252  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

to  bear  the  persecutions  ;  and,  while  he  earnestly  prayed  they  might 
not   take  the   form  of   injury  to  his  child,  he  still  pursued  his  duty, 
and  uttered  his  never  faltering  prayer,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
And  this  man  did  not  know  he  was  a  hero. 


THE  ESCAPE. 


253 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE   ESCAPE. 

7HERE  was  Patience  during  these  miserable  hours? 

Torn  from  her  mother's  protecting  arms,  she  was 
borne,  half  crazed  with  fright,  to  the  waiting  car 
riage.  Held  tight  in  the  strong  grasp  of  the  ruffian, 
the  tool  of  the  monster  who  sat  opposite  her,  she 
still  struggled  to  free  herself,  still  sent  forth  those 
piercing  shrieks  for  help. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  young  minx !  "  And  the 
bishop,  beside  himself  with  rage,  desired  nothing  so 
much  as  to  shake  and  beat  the  girl  who  had  been  so 

\ 

unfortunate  in  awakening  his  admiration. 

"  Can't  you  stop  her  screams  ?  "  he  said  to  the  man. 

"  Yes,  if  I  had  a  handkerchief,"  he  answered  sullenly. 

The  man  was  beginning  to  tire  of  holding  the  struggling  girl,  to 
whom  fright  had  given  strength.  And,  when  the  bishop  handed  him 
his  own  handkerchief  of  finest  silk,  he  passed  it  tightly  over  her 
mouth,  fastened  it  securely,  and  poor  Patience  was  mute. 

The  rapidly  rolling  carriage  soon  reached  the  bishop's  house  ;  and 
there  Patience  was  carried  to  an  inner  room,  the  gag  loosened  so  she 
could  remove  it,  she  was  laid  on  the  floor,  and  the  door  was  locked 
on  her. 

Once  free  to  move,  she  tried  to  explore  her  prison.  It  was  a  small 
room,  used  as  a  clothes-press,  whose  only  opening  being  the  door, 


254  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

when  this  was  closed  left  it  in  darkness.  As  she  passed  her  hands 
around  the  walls,  and  felt  the  shelves,  the  remembrances  of  her  child 
hood  came  back  to  her.  It  was  in  this  very  closet,  telling  frightful 
tales  of  ghosts  and  goblins,  that  Mrs.  White  had  thrust  her  for  some 
childish  misdemeanors.  Here,  after  long  hours  of  searching,  her 
mother  found  her,  and  took  her  thence,  trembling  with  fear  of  the 
supernatural.  How  clearly,  as  she  sat  in  the  darkness,  there  came 
back  to  her  each  little  incident  of  that  time  !  —  the  nervous  sickness 
following  her  too  severe  punishment  ;  and  the  dreams,  that,  weeks 
afterwards,  would  awaken  her,  wet  with  the  sweat  of  terror,  and  send 
her  weeping  to  her  mother's  bedside, — that  mother  whose  never-fail 
ing  tenderness  had  made  her  the  strength  and  comfort  for  every  ill 
that  had  fallen  on  her  children. 

Alone  in  the  darkness,  she  was  again  the  helpless  child.  And 
again  the  cry  of  "  Mother,  mother  !  "  came  from  her  poor  heart,  while 
tears  like  a  flood  of  sorrow  poured  down  her  face.  But  the  mother 
she  called  was  as  helpless  as  she,  and  this  knowledge  made  her  tears 
fall  all  the  faster. 

Slowly  the  long  hours  passed  away.  Through  the  cracks  of  the 
door  she  could  see  the  glimmer  of  lights.  She  knew  the  frightful 
day  had  gone,  and  the  more  frightful  night  had  come.  She  called 
again  and  again,  imploring  to  be  freed.  But  to  her  cries  there  came 
no  answer.  She  could  hear  the  sound  of  movement  in  the  house  ;  and 
she  beat  her  hands  against  the  door,  hoping  to  attract  some  human 
being  to  speak  to  her.  But,  for  only  reply,  always  that  fearful  silence. 

She  was  so  hungry,  so  thirsty  !  She  begged  just  for  a  little  water. 
Nothing  but  the  same  silence.  No  one  noticed  her  :  no  one  seemed 
to  hear  her.  Then  as  the  lamps  died  out,  and  the  quiet  of  night 
hushed  every  natural  sound,  cold,  hungry,  and  forgotten,  she  seemed 
left  to  die.  In  despair  she  dashed  herself  against  the  cruel  door,  that 
resisted  her  every  effort.  She  had  heard  of  wonderful  escapes,  and 


THE  ESCAPE. 


255 


tried,  with  her  soft  fingers,  to  force  the  lock  ;  but  bruised,  wearied 
out,  and  so  miserably  lonely,  she  threw  herself  upon  the  floor,  and 
sobbed  until  merciful  slumber  fell  upon  her. 

How  long  she  slept  she  knew  not  :  but,  when  she  awoke,  the  light, 
peeping  through  the  cracks,  told  of  the  dawning  of  another  day ;  and 
the  moving  of  persons,  of  an  awakened  household. 

Sitting  in  the  dark  closet,  thinking  of  her  mother,  of  Christie,  of 
dear  Matthew,  Christine,  and  of  her  big,  tender  brother  so  far  away, 
the  sorrows  of  poor  Patience  broke  into  fresh  sobs  and  tears. 

It  was  thus  Bishop  White  found  her  as  he  opened  the  door,  and 
let  the  daylight  stream  on  as  lovely  a  picture  of  grief  as  ever  met 
human  eye. 

Her  long,  fair  hair,  half  loosened  from  confining  braids,  falling  all 
around  her  ;  her  skin  paled  to  pearly  whiteness  ;  the  large  blue  eyes, 
brimming  over,  with  great  tears  dropping  from  the  long  lashes,  were 
pitifully  raised  to  his  ;  and  her  mouth  —  her  rosy,  quivering  mouth  — 
imploring  mercy  with  its  every  tremor. 

He  had  opened  the  door  to  bring  her  some  food  :  for,  since  mid 
night,  there  had  come  no  sound  from  the  place  of  her  confinement  ; 
and  he  nervously  dreaded  to  find  her  dead. 

He  had  passed  a  wretched  night,  had  heard  Tabitha's  piteous  call ; 
and,  alarmed  at  the  possible  consequences  of  Patience's  abduction,  half 
regretted  the  act.  But  the  master  demon  he  had  called  to  his  aid 
now  held  him  fast  to  crime.  With  ridicule  for  his  fears,  and  con 
temptuous  words  for  the  suffering  he  had  caused,  she  conquered  his 
"weakness."  She  convinced  him  he  had  gone  too  far  to  retreat,  - 
that  now  to  free  the  girl  would  only  increase  the  odium  he  dreaded 
might  fall  upon  him.  But  once  conquer  her  obstinacy,  once  win  her 
consent  to  his  wish,  and,  in  gratified  vanity,  she  would  soon  forget  her 
country  life,  and  then  he  could  get  his  reward.  Thus  argued  this 
minister  of  evil,  and,  with  the  powerful  logic,  self-preservation,  crushed 


256 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


out  weakening  misgivings.     She  had  urged  a  longer  interval  without 
food.   "  Starve  the  young  jade,  and  she  won't  be  so  uppish/'  she  had  said, 

while  eating  her  own  comfortable  breakfast. 
But  to  this  the  bishop  would  not  agree.    He 
decided  he  would  give  her  something  to 
eat,  and,  filling  a  plate  from  their  own 
table,  took  it  himself  to  the  closet. 


HE    OPENED   THE    DOOR.' 


He  was  very  nervous,  every  thing  was  so  still.  Dreading  to  see, 
extended  at  his  feet,  the  girl's  dead  body,  he  could  hardly  unlock  the 
door.  But  when  he  succeeded,  and  beheld  Patience  looking  well,  and 
lovelier  than  ever,  he  felt  angered  with  her  because  of  his  own  fears. 


THE  ESCAPE.  257 

Yet,  in  spite  of  anger,  her  beauty  affected  him.  She  was  so  young, 
looked  so  gentle.  One  day  was  already  gone  :  surely  now  he  might 
begin  and  try  to  coax  her  to  consent  to  his  plan  for  his  own  aggran 
dizement.  Mrs.  White  was  wise,  but  she  didn't  know  every  thing  : 
and,  if  this  confinement  was  too  long  kept  up,  the  girl  might  fall  sick, 
die,  or  lose  her  beauty  ;  and  then  she'd  be  worthless.  He  put  down 
the  plate,  and  saying,  "  Patience,  my  dear  daughter,"  put  his  hand  on 
hers,  and  tried  to  draw  her  near  him. 

Innocence,  though  it  knows  not  sin,  has,  as  guides,  its  own  true 
instincts.  It  is  the  fairy  mirror  given  to  the  child,  whose  silvery 
white  was  marred  by  the  mere  approach  of  evil.  Patience,  free  from 
guile,  and  with  no  more  knowledge  of  sin  than  has  an  infant,  felt  an 
irrepressible  shudder  at  the  approach  of  the  man  she  knew  to  be  her 
father. 

In  nature  he  was  her  father.  Yet  when,  from  her  earliest  memory, 
had  he  ever  been  natural  to  her  ?  When  had  he  ever  been  less  than 
most  cruel,  most  unkind  ?  Thus,  despite  her  desire  to  be  dutiful  to 
him,  as  he  touched  her,  impulsively  she  sprang  into  the  farthest  cor 
ner  ;  while  the  feeling  that  a  snake  was  creeping  over  her  made  her 
tremble  with  mingled  fear  and  horror. 

Too  angry  to  speak,  Bishop  White  went  out,  closing  the  door  with 
a  bang  ;  and,  turning  the  key,  he  cursed  under  his  breath,  as  there 
standing  in  the  hall,  and  laughing  at  his  discomfiture,  he  saw  Mrs. 
White.  He  had  rejected  her  advice,  and  she  was  exulting  over  him. 
Passing  her  with  a  frown,  and  without  a  word  to  any  one,  Bishop 
White  left  the  house  ;  when,  meeting  Tabitha  at  the  gate,  he  was  glad 
of  an  object  on  which  to  vent  his  spleen. 

Wearily  passed  the  day  for  Patience.  She  became  so  faint  for 
want  of  food,  that,  chancing  to  touch  the  plate  the  bishop  had  brought, 
she  ate  its  contents  hungrily,  and,  with  the  cold  tea,  quenched  the 
thirst  that  had  added  to  her  pains.  Then,  stronger,  she  once  more 


258  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

began  to  try  for  some  way  of  escape.  She  knew,  that,  between  this 
closet  and  the  house-door,  there  were  only  a  few  steps.  If  only  she 
could  open  that  door  !  Fleet  of  foot  as  she  was,  she  could  be  out  of 
the  house  and  at  her  own  home  before  she  could  be  overtaken.  But 
that  door  she  could  not  open,  try  as  she  might.  Again  tears  of  despair 
rose  to  her  eyes  as  she  felt  her  own  weakness. 

Sitting  there  in  the  darkness,  listening  to  every  sound,  she  tried 
to  imagine  what  motive  induced  the  bishop  to  pursue  her  as  he  had 
done  for  the  past  months.  Now  that  old  age  was  creeping  on,  and  he 
had  no  young  faces  around  him,  did  he  really  begin  to  feel  a  longing 
for  the  affection  of  his  children  ?  As  there  came  to  her  mind  this  ex 
planation  of  his  conduct,  the  poor  girl  wept,  and  rocked  herself  to 
and  fro. 

"  Oh,  if  this  be  true,  then  will  he  never  forgive  me  !  "  she  cried, 
as  she  thought  of  how  she  had  this  morning  repulsed  him.  But  the 
more  she  thought  of  him,  the  more  distinctly  came  before  her  each 
feature  and  expression  of  his  cruel  face,  the  more  impossible  she 
found  it  to  associate  any  thing  like  fatherly  affection  with  Bishop 
White. 

"  God  help  me  !  "  she  sobbed,  half  distracted  with  grief  and  lone 
liness.  "  I  would  rather  feel  myself  in  the  power  of  some  wild  beast 
than  have  those  creeping,  fat  fingers  close  around  mine  as  they  did 
this  morning.  When  did  he  ever  seem  like  a  father  to  any  of  us  ? 
Even  Christie,  baby  as  he  was,  never  had  a  smile  from  him."  And 
then  memories  of  past  slights  and  unkindness  their  childhood  had 
received  from  this  so-called  father  rose  from  the  buried  forgetfulness 
of  the  past  ten  years. 

Again  her  grief  became  wildness.  Again  and  again  she  threw 
herself  against  the  door,  praying  just  for  one  little  creak  of  encourage 
ment  that  she  was  weakening  it  a  little,  just  a  little.  But  no  encour 
agement  was  given  her.  Hope  grew  more  hopeless,  as  afresh  the 


THE  ESCAPE.  259 

homesick,  miserable  girl  sobbed,  and  called  for  "  Mother,  mother ! 
Darling  mother  !  If  I  could  only  escape  from  this  fearful  place  !  If  I 
could  only  once  more  be  at  home  with  mother!  "  She  did  not  stop  to 
reason  that  the  power  which  had  brought  hei  here  could  again  tear  her 
from  her  mother's  arms.  She  only  longed  to  rest  her  head  on  that 
mother's  faithful  breast,  to  look  on  the  dear  faces  of  her  home. 

"The  longest  day  will  draw  to  a  close."  And  so  once  again  poor 
Patience  saw  the  glimmering  lamplight  fade  into  blackness  ;  and  once 
again,  after  weary,  weary  wakefulness,  welcome  sleep  wrapped  her  in 
unconsciousness. 

She  was  lying  on  some  blankets  that  were  in  a  corner  on  the  floor ; 
still  in  her  gingham  working-dress,  torn  in  the  struggles  of  yesterday 
morning,  and  her  hair  forgotten  in  the  abandonment  of  her  grief  ; 
yet  now  so  fast  asleep,  she  did  not  hear  the  opening  door.  She  was 
smiling  in  her  dreams,  —  smiling  even  while  her  cheeks  were  wet  with 
tears. 

What  wakened  her  ?  Perhaps  an  angel  guarding  sleep's  holy  rest. 
Whatever  it  was,  with  a  shudder  and  suppressed  shriek  she  started 
up,  and  sprang  to  her  feet,  as,  terror-struck,  she  beheld  Bishop  White. 
A  lamp  from  the  shelf  gleamed  brightly,  and  showed  her  his  face 
with  an  expression  incomprehensible  to  her,  but  which  made  her  shake 
with  strange  fear.  He  had  talked  it  all  over  with  Mrs.  White,  had 
sent  to  Salt  Lake,  and  this  evening  had  received  an  answer.  So  if 
on  the  morrow,  or  as  soon  thereafter  as  possible,  he  could  bring  his 
child,  there  would  be  an  opening  for  her  in  that  high  household,  whose 
head  would  honor  this  girl  —  if  she  pleased  him.  But  time  was  of 
great  value. 

"  Time."  The  bishop  kept  repeating  the  word,  and  seeing  his 
coveted  gold  melt  into  uncertainty.  Of  her  pleasing,  he  felt  no  doubt. 
The  beauty  of  the  girl  would  fire  a  stone.  But  would  she  go  ?  Could 
he  coax  her  to  consent,  or  terrify  her,  if  only  to  pretend  to  willing- 


260 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


ness  ?  Then  they  could  start  on  the  morrow,  and  "  time  was  of  great 
value."  He  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  it ;  and  after  a  while,  by 
her  snoring,  being  assured  that  Mrs.  White,  sleeping  sound,  would  not 
be  aware  if  he  were  again  unsuccessful,  he  lit  a  lamp,  and,  like  a 
thief,  stole  to  Patience's  closet. 

Looking   at    her  sleeping   purity,  he   felt    only  the   power  of   her 
charms,  and  his  determination  to  barter  them  for  gain.     Not  one  atom 
of  humanity,  not  one  glimmer  of  pity,  held  him 
back  from  the  sacrifice  of  this  young  lamb.    Even 
while  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  for  rea 
sons  to  convince  her,  or,  failing  that,  for 
motives  to  terrify  her,  starting  up 
with  wild  eyes  she  gazed  at  him  ; 
and  each  moment  from  her  parted 
lips  he  dreaded  to  hear  the 
scream  that  would  bring  Mrs. 
White  to  see 
and     ridicule 
him. 

"Don't  be 
an  idiot ! "  he 
whispered. 
"  I  want  to 
befriend  you. 

Would  you  like  your  freedom,  and  plenty  of  money  ?  Would  you  like 
to  be  powerful,  and  give  your  mother  all  she  wants  ?  Would  you 
like  to  be  the  greatest  lady  in  Utah  ?  Then  just  say  you'll  go  quietly 
with  me  to-morrow,  and,  before  the  next  night,  you'll  be  the  wife  of 
the  head  of  the  State.  Will  you  go  ? " 

Patience    shuddered.       Her    eyes   grew   wilder,    but    she   did   not 
speak. 


ESCAPE    01'    PATIENCE. 


THE  ESCAPE.  261 

"  Will  you  go  ?  "  and,  fearing  every  minute  to  hear  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
White,  he  hurried  on,  each  instant  his  face  growing  more  cruel,  — 

"  If  you  don't  go,  I  swear  I'll  persecute  your  whole  family.  Your 
brothers  shall  suffer  for  it,  —  that  miserable  little  cripple  shall  suffer  for 
it ;  and,  as  for  your  mother,  you  shall  live  to  see  her  die  in  torture." 

Again  he  waited,  but  Patience  did  not  speak.  Her  every  faculty 
was  absorbed  in  horror.  With  hands  clinched  until  the  nails  pressed 
into  the  flesh,  and  eyes  gleaming  with  incipient  madness,  she  con 
fronted  this  fiend  who  was  her  father.  Mistaking  her  continued 
silence,  thinking  perhaps  he  had  conquered  her,  a  look  of  triumph 
came  into  his  eyes  ;  and,  advancing  a  step  nearer,  he  tried  to  put  his 
arm  around  her. 

"  Patience,  I "  —  But  he  said  no  more.  Quick  as  a  flash,  one 
little  hand,  like  an  avenging  angel's,  struck  at  the  hideous  phantom 
that  was  glaring  at  her.  It  fell !  She  was  free  !  With  a  bound  she 
cleared  the  prostrate  figure,  leaped  through  the  doorway,  rushed  down 
the  hall,  and  out  of  the  house.  Staggering  a  little  when  the  cold  air 
met  her,  she  soon  recovered,  and,  swift  as  the  wind,  flew  straight  to 
her  mother's  cabin. 

Tabitha  was  resting,  trying  to  sleep,  when  she  heard  rapid  foot 
steps  on  the  frozen  ground.  Expecting  she  knew  not  what,  she 
started  up  as  Patience,  with  a  wild,  hunted  look  on  her  face,  opened 
the  door. 

"  Quick,  quick  !  "  cried  the  girl,  the  wild  gleaming  of  her  eyes 
showing  even  in  the  dimly  lighted  room.  "  Up  !  I've  killed  him  ! 
They're  after  us  !  Escape  !  Escape  !  " 

She  caught  Christie  in  her  arms,  and,  had  not  her  mother  pre 
vented,  thus  unprotected  would  have  taken  him  into  the  biting  night- 
air.  Warmly  wrapping  up  the  child,  Tabitha  threw  something  around 
Patience  and  herself,  and  then,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  started 
for  Matthew's. 


262 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 


THEIR   PARTING. 

ATTHEW  and  Christine  had  passed  a  quiet  evening 
together.  They  had  written  a  clear  and  concise 
statement  of  the  abduction  of  Patience,  and  a  synop 
sis  of  Tabitha's  hardships,  and  labors  for  her  chil 
dren's  support  during  the  past  ten  years.  Arid 
Matthew,  in  his  own  writing,  had  added  these 
words  :  — 

"  Although  these  facts  are  known  throughout  the  village,  if 
:  .;j  witnesses  are  called  they  will  probably  swear  to  their  falsity, 
so  thorough  and  complete  is  the  subjection  of  the  Mormons 
to  their  government,  or  any  of  its  representatives.  If  insured  of  their 
personal  safety,  and  the  safety  of  their  property,  I  might  be  able  to  secure  two  men, 
who,  at  such  a  crisis,  may  respond  to  a  call.  But  of  this  I  am  not  certain.  I  can, 
however,  refer  you  to  the  Hon.  John  Smith  for  my  character,  as  being  strictly  truthful. 
And  I  solemnly  swear,  before  Almighty  God,  that  the  above  statement  is  true  in  every 
particular." 

He  then  affixed  his  name. 

Christine,  knowing  full  well  the  consequences  to  them  both,  asked 
to  put  her  name  also.  The  old  man  hesitated.  For  himself  he  would 
willingly  brave  every  danger,  every  persecution.  But  for  her,  the 
darling  of  his  life  !  And,  looking  down  into  the  face  raised  to  his 
own,  he  smoothed  away  the  dark  hair,  and  felt  he  could  not  let  her 
bring  fresh  sorrows  upon  herself. 


THEIR    PARTING.  263 

"  Father,"  said  her  earnest  voice,  "  if  it  is  your  duty,  is  it  not  mine 
also  ?  You  will  not  keep  me  from  your  side  in  right-doing  ?  " 

He  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  said,  "  It  shall  be  as  you  will," 
then  wrote,  — 

"  To  the  truth  of  the  above  statement  I  also  solemnly  swear,  the  facts  occurring 
between  my  fourteenth  and  twenty-fifth  year." 

And  Christine,  in  fair,  clear  characters,  signed,  "  Christine  Kleig- 
wald  Smith."  Then  Matthew  put  the  document  carefully  away  in  the 
satchel  he  was  to  take  with  him  to  Salt-Lake  City. 

The  evening  grew  later,  and  still  they  sat  together.  Neither 
thought  of  sleep.  The  parting  of  the  morrow  was  full  of  sorrow  to 
them.  That  their  sorrow  was  chiefly  for  the  dear  friends  whose  afflic 
tions  had  so  deepened  these  last  few  days,  did  not  lessen  its  sadness. 
They  knew,  too,  that  once  their  names  were  given  as  principal  and 
voluntary  witnesses  in  this  case,  they  would  be  under  the  Mormon 
ban  ;  and  what  form  of  punishment  and  persecution  would  be  meted 
out  to  them,  they  could  not  foretell.  So  the  morrow  was  a  crisis  in 
their  fate.  If  it  might  be  any  thing  but  separation  for  them  so  closely 
united  !  And  somehow,  Matthew  could  not  explain  or  reason  it  away, 
he  felt  a  great  impending  change  was  coming  to  him.  He  found  him 
self  grown  suddenly  feeble,  and  he  longed  to  prepare  his  child  for  what 
becomes  more  than  a  possibility  when  threescore  years  are  long  passed. 

He  was  sitting  in  his  arm-chair  before  the  fire  ;  and  Christine,  on 
a  stool  at  his  feet,  leaned  her  head  against  his  knee,  while  his  hand 
caressed  her  brow.  How  often,  from  her  babyhood  upwards,  had  they 
sat  thus  together  !  They  were  both  of  them  looking  into  the  past 
years,  and  their  hearts  were  filled  with  love  for  each  other.  Then 
Matthew's  thoughts  turned  to  his  darling's  future.  And  there  came  to 
him,  with  a  fresh  pang  of  sorrow,  the  time  when  she  would  no  longer 
have  his  tender  shielding  from  the  world's  storms.  Oh,  to  protect  her 


264  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

after  he  was  gone  !  to  save  her  from  the  great  loneliness,  the  bitter 
consequence,  of  her  blighted  life. 

"My  darling,"  —  his  voice  trembled,  —  "  when  God  wills  to  take 
me  out  of  this  world,  do  not  think  I  shall  be  away  from  you.  I  will 
ask  him,  in  his  mercy,  to  let  me  always  be  near  my  birdling.  You 
shall  feel  and  know,  though  your  eyes  can  no  longer  see  my  face,  I  am 
with  you,  watching  over  you,  and  loving  you  with  a  love  more  tender, 
more  exalted,  than  I  can  feel  now,  weighed  down  with  the  imperfections 
of  the  flesh." 

At  his  first  words,  Christine  fell  on  her  knees  before  him,  her 
arms  clinging  around  his  neck  as  he  bent  over  her.  Her  tears  were 
falling  fast,  but  she  would  not  lose  one  word  that  came  from  those 
revered  lips.  To  part  with  him  for  one  day  was  now  to  her  a  bitter 
grief,  who  had  no  other  than  him.  But  to  part  with  him,  and  live  on 
weary  years  without  him,  who  was  father,  friend,  guide,  every  thing,  to 
her,  seemed  a  misery  beyond  bearing  to  the  sad  woman  at  his  feet. 
He  saw  her  tears,  he  felt  her  dread  of  the  lonely  future  coming  to  her. 
Closer  he  held  her  to  his  heart,  and  said,  — 

"  My  child,  whom  I  would  have  shielded  from  the  sadness  of  a  life 
alone  !  But  God  has  willed  it  otherwise.  We  cannot  understand  ;  but 
mayhap  thy  woes  are  sent  thee,  my  birdling,  that  the  sorrows  of  thy 
soul  may  move  to  pity  human  hearts.  Perhaps  the  soil,  wherein  lie  hid 
the  seeds  of  that  tree  of  justice  that  will  shelter  the  children  yet  unborn 
from  the  cruel  laws  and  crueller  power  of  this  unhappy  State,  needs 
tears  as  pure  as  thine  to  quicken  it  into  growth.  It  may  be  his  will 
that  you  and  Patience,  two  innocent  victims  of  Utah's  institutions, 
shall  live  as  blessed  memories  in  the  hearts  of  hapless  women  and 
children.  I  would  I  could  bear  the  troubles  that  have  fallen  on  ye  ! 
Helpless  lambs,  helpless  lambs  !  " 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Christine  beheld  her  grandfather 
yield  to  grief,  and  sobs  shake  his  grand  old  frame. 


THEIR    PARTING.  265 

"  Father,"  she  cried,  her  lips  blanched  to  whiteness  as  she  saw  him 
thus,  "  don't  weep.  Listen  to  me  while  on  my  knees  before  you,  — 
you  who  have  ever  seemed  to  me,  alone  of  all  men,  made  in  God's  own 
image.  Should  it  be  my  sad  fate  to  live  alone,  should  there  not  be 
left  me  this  little  one  to  cheer  my  weary  days,  I  will  keep  before  me 
your  holy  life.  I  will  try  to  make  mine  as  if  your  eyes  were  watching 
me,  your  love  cheering  me.  I  will  try  to  take  up  your  duties  as  you 
have  laid  them  down  ;  and  living  thus,  for  God  alone,  surely  he  will 
let  me  feel  the  mercy  of  your  nearness  to  me." 

Her  tears  still  fell  ;  but,  like  the  sun  through  the  summer's  shower, 
shone  the  holy  light  of  those  deep,  dark,  unfathomable  eyes.  He 
blessed  her,  he  kissed  her,  and  clasped  her  to  his  heart ;  and  there 
came  to  both  a  moment's  lull  of  peace, — a  peace  that  was  forever 
broken  by  hurried  rapping  at  the  door,  and  the  whispered  call  of 
"  Matthew,  Matthew  !  " 

Tabitha's  voice  !  What  new  horror  ?  And  horror  it  was.  With 
out  a  word  of  explanation,  they  saw  this  in  Tabitha's  face,  and  Pa 
tience's  gleaming  eyes.  In  Tabitha's  arms  was  Christie.  He  did  not 
speak.  He  looked  too  weak,  too  near  the  Eternal  Gate  to  ever  speak 
again.  On  their  way  to  Matthew's,  in  frightened  whispers,  Patience 
had  told  her  mother,  — 

"  He  was  forcing  me  away,  mother !  He  was  forcing  me  away  ! 
And  then  I  raised  my  arm  :  I  struck  and  killed  him." 

She  muttered  this  over  and  over  again,  shuddering  as  she  said  it. 
And  to  Matthew,  Tabitha  repeated  the  girl's  words,  while  Patience 
stood  near,  shivering  and  jabbering,  —  so  unlike  their  own  sweet  girl, 
that  but  for  her  beauty,  which  even  in  this  horror  shone  out  like  a 
star,  they  would  have  doubted  her  identity. 

"  She  has  not  killed  him,"  said  Matthew.  "  So  don't  break  your 
heart  over  it,  my  poor  child.  But  there  will  soon  be  raised  a  hue- 
and-cry,  as  if  she  were  truly  a  murderess  ;  and  there  is  nothing  for 


266  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

us  but  escape.  We  must  not  let  her  fall  into  the  power  of  Mormon 
justice." 

O  noble  brother  !  Faithful  friend  !  In  this  their  hour  of  supreme 
woe  he  stood  beside  them,  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Tabitha  felt  his 
greatness ;  and,  without  a  word,  her  heart,  breaking  as  it  was,  turned 
heavenward. 

"  Christine,"  he  said,  "  get  what  money  there  is  in  the  house,  and 
hide  it  on  their  persons.  Get  warm  wraps.  Put  wine  and  food  in  a 
basket,  and  be  ready  as  soon  as  possible." 

Starting  to  go,  and  seeing  Rex  with  his  knitted  harness  on,  he 
turned  his  head,  and  said,  — 

"  Secure  as  much  money  as  you  can  inside  of  Rex's  harness.  It 
will  be  least  suspected  there.  And  we  dare  not  leave  the  dog,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  They  might  use  his  affection  to  track  us." 

In  an  incredibly  short  time,  Matthew,  with  his  swiftest  team  har 
nessed  to  the  light  buggy,  stood  waiting  for  them.  Quickly,  with 
hurried  kiss  of  this  perhaps  eternal  parting,  they  took  their  places.  As 
Christine  bent  over  Christie,  she  knew  he  was  dying.  They  all  knew 
this.  But  who  could  part  him  from  the  agonized  mother  ?  Who  could 
loose  the  tight  clasp  of  those  little  fingers  holding  fast  to  her  hand  ? 

"  God  bless  you,  my  angel  Christine,"  he  faintly  murmured,  as  she 
kissed  him. 

Then  Matthew,  taking  his  child  in  his  arms,  said,  — 

"  Don't  wait  in  the  cold.  Go  into  the  house  quickly.  I  fear  you 
may  be  ill.  We  will  hasten  to  get  beyond  the  Utah  border,  and  then, 
for  her  safety,  obtain  a  trial  for  Patience.  She  has  not  killed  her 
father ;  but  we  dare  not  remain  here  an  instant,  and  let  her  meet  the 
mob,  that,  before  morning,  will  be  raised  against  her.  And  now,  my 
darling,  good-by.  Keep  up  your  courage.  God  bless  you,  my  child  !  " 

One  more  tender  kiss  ;  and  then,  with  a  spring,  he  was  in  his  seat, 
and  the  horses  dashed  off. 


THEIR    PARTING.  267 

She  was  alone  !  Even  Rex  was  gone.  As  in  a  dream  she  had 
seen  him  in  the  bottom  of  the  buggy,  Patience  huddled  close  to  him  ; 
while  her  mutterings,  "  I've  killed  him,  I've  killed  him  !  "  sounded  even 
now  in  her  ears.  She  stood  like  one  dazed,  and  then,  feeling  some 
dampness  upon  her  face,  knew  it  was  snowing. 

"  Thank  God  !  it  will  hide  the  tracks,"  she  murmured.  And  then 
remembering  Matthew's  words,  and  his  tender  care  of  her,  she  went 
in.  Closing  the  door,  and  lowering  the  lamp,  she  threw  herself  on  the 
lounge.  She  could  not  sleep.  She  was  breathlessly  listening  for  the 
slightest  noise. 

The  gray  of  earliest  dawn  was  showing  through  the  windows,  when 
the  dreaded  sound  of  many  footsteps  startled  Christine  to  her  feet. 
She  blew  out  the  lamp,  and  listened. 

Nearer  and  nearer,  quicker  and  quicker,  they  came.  She  fell  back 
on  the  sofa,  with  clasped  hands  pressed  against  her  heart  to  quiet  its 
wild  tumult. 

"  If  I  can  but  gain  a  little  time  for  them,"  she  said,  as  she  tried  to 
compose  herself. 

Presently  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  a  voice  she  knew  calling,  — 

"  Matthew  !  " 

It  was  the  voice  of  a  man,  who,  a  few  weeks  since,  unable  to  pay 
his  tithes,  had  come  pleading  to  Matthew. 

"They  will  take  my  horse  and  wagon,"  he  said  tearfully;  "and  I 
shall  not  have  the  means  to  earn  bread  for  my  little  ones." 

Then  he  had  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  cried  like  a  child. 
And  Matthew,  going  to  his  desk,  took  out  the  needed  sum,  and,  giv 
ing  it  with  a  smile,  said,  — 

"  Take  it,  my  brother,  and  God  bless  you  !  " 

How  grateful  the  man  had  seemed,  as  he  told  Matthew  this  good 
ness  had  saved  him  from  desperation  !  And  now  this  man's  voice  was 
calling  Matthew,  to  meet  what  ?  Again  the  voice  :  — • 


268 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


"  Matthew,  I  come  as  a  friend.     Open  the  door." 
O  human  treachery  !     As  a  friend  ! 

Stilling  the  bitter  rising  of  her  heart,  in  memory  of  his  holy  pa 
tience,  who,  often  deceived,  yet  never 
wearied  of  his  kind,  Christine,  has 
tily  concealing  her  dress  with  a 
long  cloak,  to  look  as  if  just 
risen,  called  out,  — 

"  Come  in.     The  door  is 
never  locked." 

With  a  white,  scared 
look  the  man  en 
tered.  He  did  not 
speak,  but  just 
looked  at  her. 
A   pitiable 
coward,  come 
to  betray  his 
best  friend  ! 

"What  do 
you  want, 
James  ? "  she 
asked,  trying 
to  speak  nat 
urally,  but 
trembling  in 
every  nerve. 

"  My  child  is  sick.     I  want  Matthew  to  come  to  see  her." 
Pale  as  he  was,  he  blushed  as  he  uttered  this  lie. 
"  I  will  go  to  her."     And  Christine,  rising,  walked  to  the  door. 
"  O  miss,  miss  !  "  the  man  cried,  as  he  caught  hold  of  her  cloak, 


WHAT    DO    YOU    WANT,   JAMES? 


THEIR    PARTING.  269 

"  don't  go  out  there  as  you  value  your  life.  Where  is  Matthew  ?  "  he 
added. 

Then,  pushing  past  her,  he  went  from  room  to  room,  and,  before 
she  could  prevent,  had  gone  out  of  the  front-door.  A  slight  return 
of  that  deadly  sickness  had  come  over  her  as  he  had  caught  her  cloak, 
and  pulled  her  from  the  door.  With  a  great  effort  she  overcame  it 
just  in  time  to  see  him  leave  the  house. 

She  hurried  after  him.  In  front  of  the  gate  was  collected  a  crowd 
of  people  ;  while  galloping  off,  in  the  direction  Matthew  had  taken, 
was  a  band  of  horsemen.  She  tried  to  count  how  many,  but  could 
not.  She  was  so  dizzy  she  could  see  nothing  distinctly.  The  crowd 
seemed  to  fade  away  on  the  road  the  horsemen  had  gone.  She  half 
ran,  half  stumbled,  trying  to  follow,  feeling  she  must  shield  her  grand 
father,  or  die  with  him,  when  once  more  that  deadly  sick  feeling,  once 
more  the  rush  of  waters  in  her  ears,  and,  senseless,  she  fell  on  her 
face  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 


270 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

A    TERRIBLE    RACE. 

the  brief  moment  that  Matthew,  pressing  Christine 
to  his  heart,  bade  her  farewell,  there  came  to  him  the 
greatest  temptation  of  his  life.     He  was  leaving  her 
so  utterly  alone  to  face  the  possibilities  of  her  dark 
ened  future.     Again  she  seemed  to  him  a  little  child, 
and   the   baby   fingers    kept   tugging    at    his    heart 
strings.     She  was  so  helpless,  looked  so  ill,  that  his 
great  love  for  her,  rising  triumphant  over  duty,  made 
him  hesitate.     Could  not  they  guide  the  horses,  and 
leave  him  to  his  darling  ?     He  turned,  and  looked  at  the 
buggy. 

There  sat  the  exhausted  mother,  holding  her  dying  child  ;  at  her 
feet,  poor  Patience,  muttering  and  trembling  ;  and  Rex  the  dog. 
Back,  back,  Love,  tender,  sorrowing  ! 
And  to  the  fore,  Duty,  —  his  ever  constant  guide  ! 
In  that  moment's  temptation,  Matthew  suffered  his  death-agony. 
He  felt  that  never  more  would  he  behold  the  child  of  his  old  age,  — 
never  more  could  he  temper  the  bitter  wind  to  his  ewe  lamb.     Yet, 
crushing  down  the  pleadings  of  his  love,  he  sprang  to  the  buggy,  took 
the  reins  ;  and  the  horses  dashed  down  the  road,  leaving  all  of  his  life 
behind    him.     He    was   the    sole   succor  of   these   poor  human  waifs. 
Either  he  would  guide  their  frail  bark  out  of  this  dark  sea  of  trouble, 
or  he  would  perish  with  them. 


A    TERRIBLE   RACE.  271 

He  felt  the  snow,  and  he  blessed  Heaven  for  it.  But  it  soon 
stopped,  cruel  traitor  that  it  was,  and  only  served  to  make  their  tracks 
distinct.  Matthew  knew  this.  He  knew  their  only  chance  was  to  put 
as  many  miles  as  possible  between  them  and  the  sleeping  village  before 
their  pursuers  could  start.  So  he  kept  the  horses  at  their  full  speed. 
On,  on  they  dashed  in  perfect  stillness,  except  the  ringing  of  the 
horses'  hoofs,  and  the  whirring  of  the  wheels. 

At  last  Patience,  lulled  by  the  motion  of  the  carriage,  fell  asleep. 
Ever  watchful,  Matthew  noted  this,  and  hoped  good  results  for  the 
girl  from  this  repose.  She  was  chiefly  on  his  mind.  Her  wild  eyes, 
her  mutterings,  and,  except  these,  her  most  unnatural  stupor,  all  told 
that  reason  was  tottering  on  its  throne. 

"  Poor  lamb  !  "  he  had  said  to  himself  again  and  again,  as  he  had 
watched  her  sitting  in  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  her  large  eyes 
fixed  on  vacancy  as  she  muttered  to  herself.  But  when  she  fell  asleep, 
and  her  regular  breathing  told  of  her  real  rest,  his  anxiety  for  her 
became  less  pressing. 

They  had  travelled  seven  hours,  had  made  nearly  sixty  miles,  and 
the  first  faint  streaks  of  gray  were  dappling  the  black  of  the  winter 
sky.  Matthew  could  see  in  the  distance  the  mountain  range  near  the 
boundary.  Once  beyond  that,  they  were  out  of  Utah.  They  were 
free  !  On  that  line,  ever  nearing,  were  fixed  his  hopes  for  the  safety 
of  these  unfortunates.  Like  Moses,  he  was  gazing  on  the  promised 
land. 

As  this  came  to  his  mind,  there  followed  the  thought,  Like  Moses, 
was  he  never  to  reach  it  ?  "  If  it  be  Thy  will,"  he  said  in  his  heart, 
and,  while  struggling  as  man  might  struggle,  was  ready,  like  hero,  to 
endure  his  fate. 

On,  on,  the  horses  dashed.  They  were  all  flecked  with  foam,  but 
responded  to  their  master's  voice,  urging  them  onwards,  while  their 
veins,  like  whip-cords,  rose  on  their  sides  and  haunches.  Noble 


272  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

beasts !  They  went  as  if  they  knew  that  human  lives  hung  on  every 
rod  they  gained. 

The  hours  advanced.  Over  the  earth  now  hung  the  light  of  dawn. 
The  sun  would  soon  be  up.  Matthew  hoped,  before  its  light  made 
bright  the  day,  he  would  have  landed  his  bark  into  a  safe  haven.  He 
was  thankful  ;  for  he  felt  that  within  which  told  him  the  cord  of  his 
life's  bow  was  stretched  to  its  utmost,  and  it  would  take  but  little 
more  to  snap  it. 

He  had  pointed  out  the  border-line  to  Tabitha.  Every  now  and 
then  she  would  raise  her  eyes  from  Christie's  face,  and  look  longingly 
towards  their  destination.  Oh,  if  they  could  but  reach  it  before 
Christie's  little  soul  winged  its  flight  to  God  !  If  only  he  could  have 
a  few  peaceful  hours  of  rest  before  he  died  !  And  that  in  peace  she 
might  catch  his  parting  words,  and  treasure  them  as  comfort  for  the 
time,  alas  !  so  near,  when  she  would  have  him  no  longer. 

Patience  still  slumbered  quietly.  In  the  gray  of  morning  her  face 
looked  calm  as  a  child's. 

"  She  will  wake  from  this  rest  her  own  self,"  Matthew  said  to 
Tabitha,  as  he  looked  at  the  sleeping  girl. 

Each  moment  hope  grew  stronger.  But  Matthew  knew  the  value 
of  each  moment,  and  still  urged  on  the  tired  horses. 

What  was  that  ? 

A  hardly  perceptible  sound,  but  one  that  fell  on  Matthew's  ears 
as  the  knell  of  death.  His  heart  contracted  in  agony.  These  unfor 
tunates  !  After  all,  would  he  not  be  able  to  save  them  ? 

Had  they  heard  it  ? 

No.  Tabitha's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Christie  ;  and  over  the  storm- 
tossed  soul  was  falling  a  sad,  a  holy  calm.  It  shone  in  the  tired  face, 
and  seemed  a  reflection  of  the  look  in  the  dying  eyes  gazing  at  her. 
And  Patience  was  smiling  in  her  sleep,  poor  lamb  !  The  tears  started 
to  Matthew's  eyes. 


A    TERRIBLE   RACE.  273 

That  awful  sound  !  Nearer,  nearer  !  The  clamp,  clamp,  of  horses' 
hoofs.  Not  one,  but  many. 

Tabitha  heard  it  now.  She  did  not  speak  ;  but  her  face  turned  a 
ghastly  white,  and  closer  to  her  aching  breast  she  pressed  her  child. 

Matthew  looked  behind,  still  urging  on  his  horses.  Faint,  dark 
objects  approaching,  told  of  their  coming  fate.  Unless  their  horses 
could  more  swiftly  carry  them  past  the  border-line,  which  for  them 
stood  between  life  and  death,  they  were  doomed. 

"  Up,  up  !  "  called  Matthew,  now  urging  the  noble  brutes  with 
voice  and  whip,  his  heart  aching  as  he  did  so  ;  for  he  saw  blood 
mingled  with  the  foam  that  fell  from  their  mouths.  Yet  they  put 
forth  new  strength  in  these  last  moments  of  the  terrible  race. 

Nearer,  nearer,  came  that  fearful  clamping. 

More  livid  grew  Tabitha's  face,  her  eyes  still  fixed  on  her  dying 
boy.  His  were  glazing  fast  with  death.  He  could  hardly  see  his 
mother  bending  over  him. 

"  On,  on  !  "  cried  Matthew.  And  the  horses,  panting,  exhausted, 
still  responded,  still  pushed  onwards.  Nearer,  still  nearer  the  horse 
men  came,  —  so  near  the  noise  awakened  Patience  from  her  long, 
refreshing  sleep.  She  seemed  quiet  and  calm. 

"Matthew,"  she  said,  "  I  know  they  will  kill  us  if  they  catch  us  ; 
and  they  are  gaining  fast.  But,  if  I  can  die  with  you  and  mother,  I 
will  not  be  afraid."  And  then,  facing  the  death  that  she  knew  would 
be  hers,  the  girl  actually  smiled.  She  was  weary  of  her  life,  this 
bright  young  creature.  Frightened  at  what  had  passed  within  these 
last  few  days,  she  was  glad  to  lie  down  in  the  quiet  of  death. 

"  Poor  lamb  !  "  Matthew's  lips  kept  repeating.  And,  giving  all  his 
attention  to  the  now  staggering  horses,  he  still  tried  to  urge  them 
forward.  A  fruitless  effort  !  He  knew  the  race  was  lost.  Each 
instant  brought  their  pursuers  nearer.  They  could  hear  the  snorting 
of  the  horses,  and  the  voices  of  the  riders  urging  them  forward. 


274 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


Matthew  felt  on  his  shoulder  the  hot  breath  of  a  panting  steed.  In 
another  moment  the  rider  was  beside  him,  and,  pointing  a  pistol  at  his 
head,  cried,  — 

"  Halt  ! " 

Turning,  Matthew  saw  a  man  with  a  covered  face.  He  had  not 
yet  pulled  in  the  rein.  The  horses,  seeming  to  gather  fresh  vigor 


from  the  close  approach  of  pursuing  horses,  were  once  more  gallantly 
striking  out.  There  was  no  other  rider  within  several  yards.  Per 
haps  the  other  horses  were  not  much  fresher  than  his  own.  At  all 
events,  a  few  moments  more,  and  Christie,  at  least,  would  be  asleep 
in  death,  beyond  the  power  of  mortal  harming. 

From  this  band  with  hidden  faces,  Matthew  knew  full  well  neither 


A    TERRIBLE  RACE.  275 

age  nor  innocence  could  hope  for  mercy.  In  less  than  a  second  did 
these  thoughts  rush  through  his  mind  ;  and,  as  the  click  of  the  pistol 
made  ready  for  firing,  he  raised  his  right  arm,  and,  with  something 
like  a  return  of  youthful  vigor,  dashed  from  his  horse  the  cruel  enemy. 

Once  more  they  were  ahead  ! 

"  On,  on  !  "  called  Matthew,  urging  the  exhausted  beasts,  forcing 
them  to  still  greater  effort.  Then  in  this  fearful  moment,  without 
taking  his  eyes  from  the  horses,  on  whose  waning  strength  depended 
their  lives,  he  said,  — 

"  If  we  should  escape,  it  is  God's  will.  If  we  die,  it  is  still  his 
will.  Let  us  submit  to  his  decree  with  all  our  love." 

They  listened  in  silence,  and  in  silence  waited  their  fate. 

Patience  was  sitting  so  that  she  could  see  their  pursuers.  Paler 
and  paler  she  grew,  as  the  horsemen,  in  a  furious  gallop,  were  coming 
nearer  and  nearer. 

"  They  are  upon  us  !  "  As  she  said  the  words,  two  riders  dashed 
past  to  the  horses'  heads ;  while  two  others,  on  each  side  of  the  buggy, 
enforced  their  uttered  "  Halt  !  " 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  surrounded  by  a  number  of  men, 
whose  faces  were  covered  with  something  like  black  masks. 

No  one  living  in  Utah  but  has  heard  of  this  mysterious  band.  But 
no  one  ever  tells  of  seeing  them.  Their  witnesses  are  the  silent 
dead  ;  for,  except  in  rare  instances,  only  those  that  are  doomed  to 
death,  or  fate  more  awful,  ever  behold  these  avengers. 

What  had  they  now  to  avenge  ? 

A  girl's  defence  of  her  purity. 

And  on  whom  did  their  vengeance  fall  ? 

That  girl,  her  mother,  and  an  old  man,  their  protector ! 

As  the  buggy  stopped,  there  came  over  Christie's  face  the  awful 
change  of  death.  His  eyes  cleared  and  brightened  with  joy  ;  and  his 
voice,  grown  fuller  and  stronger,  exclaimed,  — 


276  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Mother,  my  vision  !     I  see  God  !  " 

An  instant,  and  the  light  had  faded.  As  two  men,  grasping  Tab- 
itha,  dragged  her  from  the  buggy  to  the  ground,  in  an  agony  of  grief 
she  was  bending  to  catch  her  child's  dying  gasps. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?     A  young  viper  ?  "  said  a  gruff  voice. 

"  In  mercy  leave  him!  He  is  dying."  But  even  as  Matthew,  with 
loud  voice,  cried  these  words,  cruel  hands  snatched  the  child  from 
Tabitha's  breaking  heart,  and  roughly  threw  him  on  the  ground. 
With  one  faint  moan  his  life  went  out. 

The  two  men  guarding  Matthew  saw  this  brutal  act.  Perhaps  it 
was  the  dead  body  of  the  child  lying  at  their  feet  ;  perhaps  they  owed 
some  gratitude  to  the  old  man,  and  thus  were  moved  to  pity,  —  they 
loosened  their  grasp  on  his  wrists.  Finding  himself  free,  unobserved 
by  the  others,  Matthew  stooped,  and  felt  Christie's  heart.  It  had 
ceased  to  beat.  He  looked  towards  Tabitha.  But  the  poor  mother 
was  beyond  help  or  sympathy.  Her  head  had  fallen  on  her  breast, 
her  face  grown  ashen  white.  And  only  by  the  strength  of  her  guards 
was  she  held  on  her  feet. 

Rex  was  close  to  Christie's  body.  The  dog  had  not  made  a  sound, 
and  now  stood  sniffing  around  his  little  master.  Seeing  him,  Matthew 
raised  the  little  body,  laid  it  on  the  faithful  animal,  slipped  the  cold 
hands  in  the  dog's  harness,  then  turned  him  towards  the  way  they  had 
come. 

"  Home,  Rex  !  "  he  whispered,  and  saw  the  dog  start  quietly  away 
with  his  precious  burden. 

It  was  all  done  in  a  moment.  Before  any  one  had  noticed  the 
mercy  shown  Matthew,  he  stood  as  before,  between  his  two  captors, 
each  with  a  hand  on  his  wrists  and  shoulders. 

Patience,  refreshed  and  invigorated  by  her  long  sleep,  stood  quiet 
and  calm  between  her  two  guards.  They  had  their  hands  on  her 
shoulders,  and  grasped  her  wrists  as  Matthew's  were  grasped.  But 


A    TERRIBLE  RACE.  277 

the  girl,  feeling  the  exaltation  of  martyrdom,  uttered  no  moan  of 
complaint.  She  had  seen  Matthew  take  from  the  ground  the  dead 
body  of  her  little  brother,  and  Rex  bear  him  quietly  away.  She  saw 
her  mother's  unconscious  face,  and  was  thankful  for  each  moment  that 
she  was  spared  the  waking  to  fresh  sorrow.  She  felt  that  life  was 
closing  for  her,  and  in  her  youth  and  beauty  she  was  glad  to  lay  down 
its  burdens. 

Matthew  and  Tabitha  were  placed  near  together,  Patience  nearly 
opposite  to  Matthew.  She  was  better  so,  she  thought,  than  at  their 
side,  where  she  could  not  touch  their  hands.  Here,  at  least,  she 
might  look  at  their  dear  faces.  And  she  seemed  to  catch  some  of  the 
strength  of  Matthew  as  she  gazed  on  him.  She  did  not  feel  grief  at 
Christie's  death.  She  knew  she  was  soon  going  to  him  ;  and  she 
thought  she  would  not  be  such  a  stranger  in  heaven,  now  his  dear 
little  face  would  welcome  her.  She  hoped  she  would  be  killed  first  ; 
for  then  she  would  keep  her  eyes  fixed  on  Matthew,  and  not  see  the 
knife  or  pistol  that  would  make  her  death-wound. 

While  she  was  yet  thinking,  the  rest  of  the  band  came  from  the 
buggy.  When  the  last  one  left  his  place  at  the  horses'  heads,  he  gave 
them  a  blow  ;  and,  exhausted  as  they  were,  the  frightened  animals 
started  off  at  a  gallop  ;  the  carriage  swinging  from  side  to  side,  as  it 
vanished  in  a  turn  of  the  road.  Patience  watched  it  all,  and  the  men, 
as  they  walked  slowly  back,  and  formed  a  circle  around  them. 

"  They  will  kill  us  now,"  she  thought  ;  and  she  began  to  tremble 
nervously.  But  her  heart  was  undaunted,  and  her  face  calm.  Except 
the  few  brutal  ones  when  Christie  was  killed,  not  a  word  had  been 
spoken  since  they  had  been  dragged  from  the  buggy.  And  now,  in 
silence,  these  men,  with  covered  faces,  stood  in  a  dark  circle  around 
their  captives. 

The  silence  grew  so  awful  and  oppressive,  Patience  could  hardly 
breathe  ;  when  it  was  broken  by  a  voice,  calling,  — 


278  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Stand  forth,  thou  hoary  sinner,  thou  Gentile  priest,  thou  insti 
gator  of  rebellion  to  wives  and  children  !  Stand  forth,  and  hear  the 
doom  which  an  avenging  angel  pronounces  against  thee." 

Matthew's  guards  pushed  him  forward,  and  he  stood  alone  in  the 
centre  of  the  circle.  A  prisoner  ;  but  he  looked  a  king,  with  his  noble 
head  erect,  and  his  tall  frame  drawn  to  its  full  height.  For  himself 
he  feared  not  death.  Calm  and  undaunted  by  this  mysterious  circle, 
he  looked  beyond  their  cruelty  to  God's  throne.  And  yet,  even  now, 
exalted  by  his  faith,  his  heart  was  filled  with  tenderest  human  pity  for 
these  two  helpless  ones  who  must  share  this  terrible  doom.  Again 
the  voice  :  — 

"  Brothers,  what  does  this  wretch  merit  ?  " 

Silence  !     Awful  silence  ! 

And  then  many  voices  hiss  out  one  word,  — 

"  Death  !  " 

Matthew's  guards  advanced,  and,  grasping  him,  once  more  pull  him 
back. 

"  Woman,  stand  forth  !  "  said  the  voice. 

But  the  woman,  half  fainting,  could  not  stand.  Her  guards  pushed 
her  to  the  middle  of  the  circle,  and  she  fell  on  her  knees.  Barely 
conscious,  she  weakly  raised  her  head,  and  gazed  in  the  direction  of 
the  voice. 

Again  it  spoke  :  — 

"  Thou  rearer  of  a  brood  of  vipers  ;  thou  traitor  to  Utah's  sacred 
laws  ;  thou  spy,  that,  escaping  from  our  boundaries,  would  tell  hideous 
tales  of  our  holy  church,  —  hear  the  doom  an  avenging  angel  pro 
nounces  against  thee  !  " 

As  before,  silence  for  an  instant ;  and  then  that  awful  whisper  of 
many  voices,  — 

"  Death  !  " 

Tabitha  still  gazed  around,  as  if  not  understanding  what  was  said. 


A    TERRIBLE  RACE.  279 

But,  in  a  moment,  her  guards  had  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  dragged 
her  back  to  her  place. 

Once  more  the  voice  :  — 

"  Girl,  stand  forth  !  " 

Patience's  guards  did  not  need  to  push  her,  so  willingly  she  ran 
to  the  centre  of  the  circle,  standing  just  where  Matthew  and  Tabitha 
had  stood, 

"  I  feel  the  blessing  of  their  footsteps,"  she  said  to  herself. 

So  fair  she  was,  so  young,  and  her  sweet  face  radiant  as  an  ancient 
martyr's  !  Matthew,  looking  at  her,  felt  his  eyes  grow  dim  with  the 
dew  of  pity. 

"  Thus  might  have  looked  St.  Agnes,"  he  thought,  as  he  watched 
the  girl,  quietly  standing,  awaiting  her  sentence.  And  the  voice 
went  on,  — 

"  Thou  would-be  murderer  of  a  fond  father  ;  accursed  of  Scripture, 
thou  thankless  child,  —  listen  while  an  avenging  angel  pronounces  thy 
doom." 

Silence  for  a  moment ;  and,  in  that  moment,  Patience's  soul  sang 
a  "  Te  Deum  "  that  her  father  yet  lived.  She  was  spared  the  sin  of 
murder.  While  even  this  thought  ran  through  her  mind,  the  awful 
whisper  began. 

What  did  they  mean  ?  It  was  not  "  Death  !  "  No.  God  help  her  ! 
Fate  more  awful. 

"  She  shall  be  given  to  that  father  to  do  his  will,  —  to  become  his 
lowest  handmaid.  And,  if  ever  she  divulges  any  particular  of  this 
meeting,  her  tongue  shall  be  torn  out,  and  her  eyes  burned  with  hot 
irons." 

All  her  peace  and  calm  deserted  on  the  instant.  With  a  wild 
shriek  of  horror,  she  fell  on  her  knees,  and,  before  her  guards  could 
drag  her  back,  had  poured  forth  words  of  piteous  pleading. 

"  In  mercy  kill  me  !     Do  not  send  me  to  him  !     Pity,  pity,  pity  ! " 


280  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

she  sobbed,  as  weeping,  trembling,  struggling,  she  was  forced  back  to 
her  place  opposite  Matthew  and  Tabitha.  Matthew's  voice  rose  on  the 
air,  and  reached  Patience's  heart. 

"  Be  patient,  dear  child,  God  will  have  pity  on  "  —  Ere  he  fin 
ished  the  words,  a  shot  rang  out  ;  and  the  old  man  fell  dead. 

A  shriek  from  Patience,  and  again  the  light  of  madness  flashed 
from  her  eyes.  She  looked  from  the  dead  Matthew  to  her  living 
mother,  and  trembled  and  shivered.  Her  chin  began  to  shake,  and 
again  she  began  that  fearful  muttering. 

Tabitha  was  only  partly  conscious.  She  started  at  the  shot,  but 
did  not  know  that  Matthew  lay  dead  at  her  feet.  She  thought  he  was 
bending  down,  looking  for  Christie. 

"  He's  not  there,  Matthew,"  she  whispered.     "  He's  gone  to  God." 

A  smile  came  over  her  worn  face.  Another  shot  ;  and  she,  too, 
fell  dead,  —  dead  beside  him  who  had  given  "even  his  life"  for  her 
and  hers. 

Patience  heard  the  shot,  -and  saw  her  mother  fall.  Silent  and  rigid 
she  looked  on  the  two  motionless  bodies.  And  then,  with  a  wild 
shriek,  with  eyes  starting  from  her  head,  — 

-Dead!  dead!     All  dead  !" 

Shrieking,  laughing,  struggling,  she  was  no  more  the  tender 
Patience,  but  a  raving  maniac ! 

And  the  morning  sun,  bursting  through  the  clouds,  shone  over  all. 


"SEEKING,    THEY  FIND." 


281 


CHAPTER     XXXV. 

"SEEKING,    THEY    FIND." 

WHITE-COVERED  wagon  coming  slowly  towards 
the  village,  and  a  merry  whistle  waking  up  the 
winter's  sun,  as  lazily  he  shone  over  the  mountain 
tops,  —  a  merry  whistle,  and  Martin's  happy  face 
looking  lovingly  towards  his  home.  It  was  not  yet 
in  sight  ;  but  he  knew  where  it  stood,  and  was 
^  watching  for  the  first  glimpse.  In  fancy  he  already 
saw  the  mother's  loving  face,  dear  little  Christie,  and 
heard  Patience's  merry  greeting.  He  laughed  out 
right  as  he  thought  how  Patience  would  jump  and 
dance  when  she  saw  what  he  had  brought  her  for  Christ 
mas.  He  took  out  something  from  his  pocket,  and  looked  to  see  if  it 
were  all  safe.  Yes  :  there  it  lay  in  its  many  folds  of  paper,  —  a  little 
box,  and  in  it  a  golden  ring.  He  folded  it  up  again  carefully,  and  put 
it  in  its  hiding-place ;  giving  the  pocket  a  little  pat  of  satisfaction. 

"  I'll  make  her  keep  guessing  what  it  is,  and  then  won't  give  it  to 
her  until  Christmas  morning.  She'll  be  half  wild  with  curiosity  if  I 
make  her  wait  two  whole  days." 

Thinking  of  Patience's  golden  ring,  he  sighed.  The  one  he  had 
brought  for  Christie  to  give  Christine  came  back  to  his  mind. 

"  Poor,  dear  Christine  !  How  I  long  to  see  her  and  Matthew  ! 
What  a  brute  Malcolm  must  be,  to  want  another  wife  when  he  had 
won  her  !  I  wish  I  could  have  a  lick  at  him."  And  he  doubled  up 


282  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

his  strong  fist,  and  struck  out  from  the  shoulder  in  a  way  that  would 
have  been  rather  fatal  to  Malcolm's  beauty  if  he  had  been  before  him. 
"  Well,  never  mind.  We'll  all  be  happy  yet,  when  we  leave  Utah,  and 
are  settled  in  the  camp.  My,  how  I  miss  the  pounding  of  the  mill  !  " 
And  then  he  began  to  think  of  the  cabin,  which,  in  leisure  hours,  he 
had  built  for  his  family.  It  was  all  ready  for  them.  He  had  even  put 
a  carpet  on  the  floor  of  the  large  room.  This  carpet  was  a  source  of 
great  pride  to  Martin.  It  was  his  Christmas  gift  to  his  mother,  and 
he  was  wondering  if  she  would  like  the  pattern.  He'd  have  to  tell 
her  of  it :  or  should  he  say  nothing  about  it,  —  leave  it  for  a  delight 
ful  surprise  when  she  reached  her  new  home,  and,  for  her  Christmas, 
just  hand  her  all  the  money  he  had  saved  ?  He  could  not  quite  settle 
this  serious  question.  Decided  he  would  consult  with  Patience,  and 
get  her  opinion. 

He  was  growing  impatient  with  the  slow  progress  his  horses  were 
making,  and  began  to  crack  his  long  whip,  and  start  them  up  a  bit. 
He  was  feeling  very  anxious  about  Christie.  Patience's  last  letter  had 
mentioned  his  increasing  weakness.  She  wrote  he  could  no  longer 
use  his  crutches,  and  only  moved  about  in  their  arms,  or  on  Rex's  back. 
And  then  she  added,  "  Good  Rexy  is  such  a  comfort  to  the  dear  boy ! 
He  acts  just  like  an  elder  brother,  always  ready  to  give  his  strength 
to  our  little  angel."  These  words  had  troubled  Martin  sorely,  and 
now  came  rising  before  him,  clouding  the  joy  that  was  filling  his  heart. 
But  he  dashed  away  the  tears  that  came  to  his  honest  eyes,  and  said, 
"  The  little  man'll  be  all  right  when  he  gets  a  good  doctor.  And, 
please  God,  he'll  have  one,  if  I  have  to  pledge  a  year's  work  for  the 
money.  Come,  get  up,  you  lazy  boys  !  "  he  called  to  the  horses  ;  and, 
with  much  noise  and  rattling,  the  wagon  took  a  brisker  pace  towards 
Martin's  home.  Matthew's  house  came  first  in  sight.  How  white 
and  peaceful  it  looked  !  "  But  not  so  white  as  his  soul,"  said  the 
young  fellow.  "  If  they  knew  I  was  so  near,  both  he  and  Christine 


"SEEKING,    THEY  FIND."  283 

would  be  peeping  out,  just  to  say  '  Welcome.' '  And  he  smiled  a  great, 
broad,  happy  smile.  How  happy  he  was  !  He  had  worked  so  hard, 
and  now  was  about  to  taste  the  fruit  of  his  labors.  It  had  been 
arranged,  that,  immediately  after  Christmas,  Martin  was  to  take  his 
mother,  Christie,  and  Patience  back  with  him  in  his  wagon.  They 
would  take  nothing  but  their  clothing.  The  furniture  of  the  cabin 
was  both  poor  and  old  ;  and,  besides,  Matthew,  not  feeling  quite  secure 
of  Bishop  White's  approval,  thought  their  chances  of  safe  departure 
would  be  increased  if  they  went  off  quietly,  as  if  just  for  a  trip  of 
pleasure.  A  few  days  after  they  left,  he  would  follow  with  Christine, 
and,  until  every  thing  was  settled,  rent  a  house  for  them.  Then, 

towards  spring,  he  would  return  to  G ,  and  get  his  fields  ready  for 

the  sowing,  when,  he  thought,  with  the  help  of  John  Smith's  influence, 
he  might  be  able  to  bargain  off  his  house  and  ranch  in  exchange  for 
cattle.  He  did  not  anticipate  any  difficulty  about  his  departure  ;  as  he 
had  paid  in  full  both  principal  and  interest  on  his  lands,  and  owed  no 
debts.  They  had  talked  all  this  over ;  and  Patience,  the  family  scribe, 
had  written  it  to  Martin.  He  had  partially  secured  a  nice  little  house 
for  Matthew.  The  bargain  only  waited  his  approval,  and  the  young 
fellow  was  quite  proud  of  the  business  ability  he  thought  he  had 
shown.  He  was  longing  to  have  Matthew  say,  "  Well  done,  my  boy," 
and  feel  the  loved  hand  on  his  shoulder.  The  wagon  was  nearing 
Matthew's  house.  Now  it  stood  before  the  gate,  but  there  were  no 
dear  faces  looking  out  ;  and,  stranger  yet,  the  house-door  stood  open. 
"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  Has  Christie  been  taken  ill,  and  both 
Matthew  and  Christine,  hurrying  to  him,  in  their  anxiety  forgot  to 
close  the  door  ?  "  A  surge  of  hot  blood  rushed  all  over  him  as  this 
fear  arose.  He  gave  the  horses  a  sharp  blow  ;  but,  with  a  jump,  they 
came  to  a  stand-still.  There  was  something  black  lying  in  the  road. 
It  looked  like  a  woman,  and  he  had  nearly  run  over  her.  Catching  the 
reins  on  the  brake,  Martin  jumped  down,  and  ran  towards  the  long, 


284 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


black  object.     It  was  a  woman,  lying  like  one  dead.     He  raised  her  up. 
Good  God,  it  was  Christine  ! 

Pale,  deathlike,  but  faintly  breathing.     He  lifted 
her  in  his  strong  young  arms,  and  laying  her  gently 
on  her  back,  as  he  had  seen  his  mother  place  Christie 
when   he   fainted,  rushed   to  the  wagon  for  a  flask 
of  whiskey.     Mrs.  Monk  had  given  it  to  him, 
"to  use  in  case  of  necessity,"  she  had  said. 
And  surely  there  never  could  be  a  greater 
need  than  now.     He  rubbed  some  on  her  face 
and  hands,  wet  her  lips  with  it,  and,  as  she 
began  to  breathe  a  little  stronger,  put  a  few 
,;  1          drops  in  her  mouth.     Slowly  the  dark 
unclosed,  and  looked  at  Martin, 
did  not  seem  strange  to 
him  there.     She  felt  as 
their  griefs    must    reach 
the    whole     world 
•--',        round,    and    they 


eyes 


It 


see 


IT   WAS   CHRISTINE  P 


had  brought  him  to  her.  But  to  him,  just  dreaming  happy  dreams,  to 
find  Christine,  the  pearl  of  womankind,  lying  fainting  in  the  public 
road,  what  could  it  mean  ?  Where  was  Matthew  ?  What  had  become 


"SEEKING,    THEY  FIND."  285 

of  all  humanity,  that  this  should  occur  ?  When  she  grew  stronger, 
and,  leaning  on  her  arm,  looked  eagerly  up  the  road,  he  helped  her 
to  her  feet.  He  held  her  fast  in  his  arm,  and  tried  to  lead  her  back  to 
the  house,  He  himself  was  in  a  daze.  A  thousand  eager  questions 
rushed  to  his  lips  ;  but  he  did  not  speak,  waiting  for  her  to  tell  the 
frightful  facts  that  had  brought  her  where  he  found  her.  Half  lifting 
her,  he  turned  towards  the  cottage  ;  and  she  whispered  faintly,  — 

"  Not  that  way.  This  road.  We  must  follow  them.  Help  me  to 
your  wagon.  O  Martin  !  "  she  wailed,  as  she  sat  by  his  side,  held  up 
by  his  strength,  "  either  we  must  find  and  die  with  them,  or  we  are 
left  utterly  alone  in  this  weary,  weary  world.  Drive  on  your  horses. 
Lose  no  time.  This  was  the  way  they  went  ;  and,  as  we  go  to  them, 
I  will  tell  you  what  will  break  your  heart  as  it  has  mine." 

In  whispers,  often  interrupted  by  her  tears  and  his  bitter  grief, 
the  story  of  these  terrible  days  was  told  to  him.  The  morning  greeted 
him  a  happy  boy  :  the  noon  looked  down  on  a  man  filled  with  wild 
revenge. 

"  When  I  meet  that  wretch  that  drove  my  sister  to  despair,  I  will 
kill  him,  and  exult  in  his  death-agony.  He  is  not  my  father.  He  is  a 
fiend  incarnate." 

And  murder  looked  out  of  the  blue  eyes  that  ever  before  had 
beamed  kindly  on  every  living  thing.  Christine,  while  she  felt  even 
in  her  tender  heart  an  echo  to  his  bitterness,  remembered  her  promise 
to  Matthew.  Stilling  the  rising  of  human  nature,  she  talked  and 
pleaded  with  the  poor  fellow  at  her  side  as  Matthew  would  have  done, 
until,  feeling  her  ills  were  as  great  as  his  own,  and  her  life  more  piti 
ful,  he  said  he  would  try  to  keep  from  crime  for  his  mother's  sake. 
The  horses  were  not  fresh,  so  they  made  but  slow  progress.  It  was  a 
lonely  road.  Travelled  mostly  by  grain-teams  during  the  summer  and 
autumn,  it  was  little  else  used  ;  and  there  were  but  few  cabins  to 
break  its  loneliness.  They  dared  not  stop  at  any  of  these,  even  to 


286  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

hire  a  fresh  team,  that  they  might  travel  faster  ;  for  they  dared  not 
let  it  be  suspected  who  they  were,  or  whom  they  were  seeking.  They 
were  on  the  right  road ;  for  the  tracks  were  plainly  visible,  —  horses' 
hoofs  in  great  numbers,  and  every  now  and  then  the  mark  of  a  light 
vehicle.  They  were  frantic  with  anxiety  to  push  on,  and  learn  the 
fate  of  those  dearer  than  life.  But,  urge  as  he  might,  the  horses  could 
not  go  fast ;  and  the  afternoon  found  them  only  forty  miles  on  their 
way,  with  the  necessity  of  stopping  to  feed  the  team.  The  horses 
must  eat,  or  their  strength  would  not  last  to  the  end  of  this  terrible 
journey.  For  over  an  hour  these  two,  their  hearts  bursting  with  their 
dreadful  uncertainty,  must  wait,  must  hear  the  grind,  grind,  of  those 
slow  teeth  !  would  they  ever  finish  ? 

It  was  maddening  !  Martin  built  a  fire,  and,  making  Christine  sit 
near  it  to  warm  her  half-frozen  feet,  gave  her  some  of  the  contents  of 
the  little  flask.  She  did  not  know  she  was  cold, — was  not  conscious 
she  had  been  shivering  for  the  past  two  hours.  Her  every  thought 
and  feeling  was  merged  in  the  one  desire  to  find  her  grandfather  and 
her  friends. 

At  last  the  horses  had  eaten  their  grain.  Martin  was  putting  them 
to  the  wagon  ;  and  Christine,  pale  as  death,  but  composed  and  deter 
mined,  stood  ready  to  mount  to  her  seat,  when,  looking  up  the  road 
where  they  longed  to  be  going,  she  saw,  coming  towards  them,  an 
animal,  large  and  dark.  As  it  came  nearer,  she  saw  it  was  a  dog. 
She  called,  — 

"  Martin  !  " 

He  had  just  finished  hitching  up  the  team,  and  was  coming  to  help 
her  in,  when  her  voice  hastened  him  to  her  side.  She  pointed  to  the 
advancing  dog.  "  Rex,"  he  said. 

She  bowed  her  head.  She  could  not  speak.  She  saw  he  carried 
something  on  his  back,  and  her  heart  told  her  it  was  Christie. 

The  dog  had  seen  and  recognized  them.     He  began  to  whine  ;  and 


"SEEKING,    THEY  FIND."  287 

while  he  walked  rather  than  trotted,  as  if  he  were  bringing  something 
very  carefully,  he  seemed  to  increase  his  speed. 

"  Christine,"  said  Martin,  "  he  is  carrying  something.  Can  it  be 
Christie  ?  " 

Again  she  bowed  her  head.  Her  lips  seemed  glued  together. 
Speech  was  impossible.  Dashing  more  bushes  on  the  waning  fire, 
Martin  ran  towards  the  dog. 

Faithful  creature  !  His  eyes  were  bloodshot,  his  tongue  hanging 
out,  and  he  panted  as  if  each  breath  would  be  his  last.  Yet  he  walked 
on  until  Martin  reached  him,  and  stood  quietly  while  Christie  was 
taken  off  his  back.  When  he  was  safe  in  Martin's  arms,  Rex  ran,  as 
if  half  maddened  by  thirst,  to  the  stream  where  Martin  had  watered 
the  horses.  And  Martin,  with  the  dead  body  of  his  little  brother  held 
close  in  his  arms,  came  to  the  fire,  and  began  to  rub  the  icy  cold 
limbs. 

Even  with  death's  awful  mark  on  the  brow,  mouth,  nose,  the  half- 
opened,  glazed  eyes,  the  pulseless  breast,  and  the  limp,  hanging  limbs, 
Martin  would  not  believe  him  dead.  He  called  him  by  every  endear 
ing  name,  kissed  him  with  all  the  fervor  of  his  loving  nature,  rushed 
for  water  to  bathe  his  head,  chafed  the  little  hands  and  limbs  that 
nothing  could  ever  again  warm  back  to  life.  He  would  not  listen  to 
the  weeping  Christine  striving  to  reason  with  him,  —  would  not  hear 
her  say  he  was  dead.  But  dead  he  was  ;  and,  pure  angel  as  he  had 
ever  been,  there  came  even  from  his  sweet  lips  the  awful  moisture  that 
death  alone  can  bring. 

When  he  became  convinced  that  the  little  brother  he  had  loved 
so  fondly  was  gone  from  him  forever,  Martin  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  beside  his  body,  and  the  sobs  of  manhood  rent  the  air.  Can 
any  one,  once  hearing  the  weeping  of  a  strong  man,  forget  it  ?  It 
seemed  to  Christine  as  if  his  sobs  took  actual  form,  and  peopled  with 
grief  their  lonely  resting-place. 


288  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

"  Martin,"  she  said,  as  time  went  on,  and  his  grief  showed  no 
abating,  "  see,  the  day  is  going  ;  and  we  may  have  many  miles  yet  to 
travel  before  we  find  father,  Tabitha,  and  Patience."  At  her  words, 
Rex,  who  had  been  whining  beside  Christie's  body,  licking  his  hands 
and  face,  ran  to  Martin,  and  pulled  at  his  coat,  darting  down  the  road, 
and  back  again,  as  if  he  could  show  the  way.  "  Come,  Martin,  come, 
or  we  may  be  too  late." 

Martin  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  his  face  all  swollen  with  his  bitter 
weeping,  and  his  bosom  heaving  with  heavy  sobs.  Christine  had 
Christie  in  her  arms.  She  wiped  his  lips,  and  kissed  his  holy,  sleeping 
face. 

"  Little  angel,  come  to  take  this  journey  with  us.  Show  us  the 
way,  and,  oh  !  help  us  to  bear  what  may  yet  be  in  store  for  us,"  she 
said,  while  her  tears  fell  fast.  She  smoothed  back  the  clustering  curls 
that  hung  over  his  brow  ;  and,  with  a  heart -ache  so  violent  that  it 
dried  the  tears  on  her  face,  she  saw  on  one  temple  a  fearful  bruise. 
He  had  been  martyred  !  Quickly  she  hid  the  cruel  mark  with  the 
beautiful  hair,  and  prayed  that  Martin  might  be  saved  this  pang. 

Holding  the  dead  child  in  her  arms,  with  Martin's  help  she  climbed 
to  her  seat.  Still  weeping,  Martin  took  his  place  beside  her  ;  and 
Rex,  jumping  in,  lay  at  their  feet,  looking  up  the  road.  So  the  wagon 
started  on. 

The  day  had  sunk  to  rest  amid  glorious  golden  clouds.  There  had 
followed  the  short  interval  of  a  clear  twilight ;  and  now  the  moon 
flooded  the  earth  with  her  silvery  rays,  lighting  their  road  almost  with 
the  brightness  of  day.  They  still  followed  the  tracks,  as  clear  now  as 
when  the  sun  shone  on  them.  Their  hearts  were  heavy  with  dread  ; 
for  they  knew  that  escaping  Mormons,  if  pursued  and  caught,  met 
with  most  fearful  doom.  And  that  they  had  not  been  caught,  they 
could  no  longer  hope,  since  this  sad  messenger  had  corne  to  them. 
Martin  shuddered  as  he  remembered  a  tale  told  him  by  a  young  Mor- 


"  SEEKING,    THEY  FINDr  289 

mon  he  had  met  on  his  second  trip  out  of  Utah.  It  was  of  a  woman 
trying  to  escape  with  two  little  children,  —  a  boy  and  girl.  They  were 
caught ;  the  woman  cut  to  pieces  before  her  children,  and  her  limbs 
thrown  in  different  directions.  The  two  little  children,  both  under 
five  years,  were  turned  adrift  on  the  country.  "  It  was  believed,"  he 
had  said,  "  that  they  would  perish,  and  that  they  were  too  young,  in 
any  case,  to  remember.  But  they  did  remember,  and  would  avenge 
whenever  there  came  a  chance."  Anc  such  a  strange  look  had  passed 
over  the  fellow's  face,  that,  for  a  moment,  Martin  thought  he  must  be 
of  kin  to  these  unfortunates.  But  he  did  not  like  to  ask.  He  had, 
indeed,  driven  the  circumstance  out  of  his  mind.  Being  naturally 
happy  and  hopeful,  he  tried  to  believe  the  best  of  every  thing.  But 
now  there  seemed  no  best.  He  felt  that  for  him  there  never  could 
come  a  best. 

He  began  nervously  to  look  along  the  road,  watching,  yet  dreading, 
to  see  some  member  of  a  human  body.  He  knew  he  should  go 
mad  if  the  wagon  were  to  run  over  and  crush  any  part  of  those  they 
were  seeking.  He  was  half  tempted  to  tell  Christine.  But,  when  he 
turned  towards  her,  he  feared  to  disturb  her.  She  was  watching  little 
dead  Christie,  and  looked  so  holy,  she  seemed  an  angel  guarding  his 
brother.  His  tears  flowed  afresh  as  he  saw  the  peaceful  little  face. 
But,  despite  his  sorrow,  he  was  thankful  to  know  his  sacred  body  was 
saved  from  violation.  Again  he  watched  the  road,  filled  with  that 
awful  dread  of  seeing  a  mutilated  body.  Again  he  looked  back  at 
Christine.  She  was  so  still !  Was  she  dead  ?  He  began  to  feel  his 
head  whirl,  his  senses  slipping  away  from  him.  To  save  himself  from 
madness,  he  put  out  his  hand,  and  touched  her  arm. 

"  What  is  it,  Martin  ?  " 

Her  gentle  voice,  her  sad  and  holy  eyes,  brought  him  back  to 
reason  and  to  grief. 

Suddenly  Rex,  who  had  never  ceased  his  watching  along  the  road, 


290  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

began  to  grow  uneasy.  He  commenced  whining,  and  then,  with  a 
bound,  sprang  out  of  the  wagon,  and  ran  in  front. 

"  Martin,"  gasped  Christine,  "whatever  it  is,  we  are  near  it.  O 
God,  give  us  strength  !  "  And  she  took  his  hand  in  hers.  They 
could  almost  hear  each  other's  heart  beat.  On  the  wagon  moved,  until 
they  were  near  to  Rex,  standing  over  something  in  the  road.  The 
dog  was  howling  and  whining,  and,  every  once  in  a  while,  putting 
down  his  head  as  if  listening.  Martin,  handing  the  reins  to  Christine, 
said,  — 

"Wait  here." 

"No,  Martin,"  she  answered.     "We  will  go  together." 

Tenderly  she  laid  Christie  in  the  wagon,  folded  his  little  hands 
over  his  breast,  and,  covering  his  face,  left  him.  She  took  Martin's 
hand.  Ill  as  she  had  been,  weak  as  she  now  was,  she  was  ready  to 
share,  to  its  bitterest  dregs,  the  sorrow  in  store  for  them.  She  seemed 
gifted  with  supernatural  power  of  endurance  that  rose  to  every  emer 
gency.  Side  by  side  they  advanced  upon  their  fate. 

Alas  !  too  soon  they  found  it. 

On  the  ground,  lying  close  together,  the  bodies  of  Matthew  and 
Tabitha,  cold  and  dead.  Their  sacred  dead  !  The  moonlight  fell  full 
upon  their  faces  in  their  calm,  their  awful,  sleep.  A  smile  on  each 
face,  as  if  in  peace  they  had  left  this  world  of  sorrow.  Just  a  little 
bullet-hole,  in  the  region  of  the  heart,  had  let  out  their  lives,  and 
opened  heaven's  door. 

Christine  knelt  beside  her  father.  She  rested  on  his  bosom,  and 
despair  seized  on  her  soul.  Despair  !  She  raised  her  head,  and  looked 
on  his  face.  The  demon  fled  abashed.  Kneeling  at  his  side,  the  ten 
der  words  of  their  last  evening  came  back  to  her,  one  by  one.  Like 
stars  they  lighted  the  blackness  of  her  life  ;  and,  before  her  holy  dead, 
she  renewed  the  promise  made  to  him.  There  seemed  to  come  a  fresh 
smile  upon  his  lips.  She  kissed  them,  and  took  its  blessing  on  her 


SEEKING,    THEY  FIND." 


29I 


heart ;  and  then  she  turned  to  comfort  Martin.  Without  a  sob,  with 
out  a  tear,  in  deep  and  silent  grief,  he  was  bending  over  the  body  of 
his  mother. 

"  Martin,  we  must  take  them  home.  We  could  not  leave  them 
here." 

Without    a   word,  he    arose.     Together  they  raised    their  beloved 


"COLD    AND    1JEAO." 


dead,  and  placed  them  in  the  wagon.  Christine's  weakness  turned  to 
strength,  and  she  took  her  part  in  this  sacred  duty. 

Suddenly  they  missed  Patience.  Where  was  she  lying  ?  They 
looked  in  every  direction,  but  no  trace  of  her.  Here  was  uncertainty 
more  awful  than  death. 

With  faces  bent  near  the  ground,  they  scanned  every  track.  Here 
was  a  slender  footprint.  Here  she  stood,  but  there  was  no  mark  of 


292  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

a  fallen  body.  Here  was  her  track  again,  and  then  two  heavier  lines, 
as  if  she  had  been  drawn  backwards.  These  marks  stopped  at  the 
place  where  they  had  first  seen  the  footprint ;  and  there,  as  if  she  had 
stamped  one  foot  on  the  ground,  there  remained  a  deepened  mark. 
But  no  further  tracks.  What  had  become  of  her  ?  They  called  Rex 
to  their  aid.  He  sniffed  around,  then  ran  a  little  way,  and  then 
stopped.  Following,  they  saw  no  tracks  of  Patience  ;  but  just  where 
the  dog  had  stopped,  and  was,  with  head  bent  down,  trying  to  recover 
the  scent,  they  found,  on  a  brier,  a  shred  of  blue  gingham.  It  was  a 
piece  of  Patience's  dress.  Just  here,  there  was  a  great  tramping  of 
horses'  hoofs  ;  and,  from  this  point,  the  tracks  seemed  all  going  in 
different  directions  ;  but  no  further  footprint,  —  no  further  shred  of 
cloth.  Nothing  to  tell  of  Patience.  Rex,  too,  seemed  puzzled.  Coax 
him  as  they  might,  he  would  not  stir  farther  away  than  the  bush  where 
they  found  the  piece  of  gingham.  He  seemed  to  tell  them  all  trace 
of  her  ended  there.  And  to  this  they  finally  had  to  submit,  after 
hours  of  searching.  The  moon,  which  had  favored  them,  was  now 
setting  in  the  west ;  and,  before  many  moments,  darkness  would  cover 
the  earth.  They  must  return  with  their  dead.  They  must  bury  them 
away  from  sacrilegious  hands,  and  then  their  mission  would  be  to  find 
Patience.  Dead  or  alive,  they  would  find  her. 

Slowly,  slowly,  they  made  the  homeward  journey  with  their  awful 
load,  dreading  each  instant  some  cruel  interruption  to  this  most  holy, 
most  sorrowful,  funeral. 

Towards  evening  on  the  next  day  they  reached  Matthew's ;  and 
after  night  fell,  and  the  village-lights  went  out,  Martin  dug  their 
graves  in  the  front-garden.  Side  by  side  they  buried  their  holy  dead, 
their  graves  unmarked,  save  by  the  eternal  sorrow  of  two  hearts.  As 
the  last  sod  fell  on  her  beloved  grandfather,  Christine  lost  all  power  of 
speech  and  motion.  She  who,  in  all  that  time  of  trial,  had  taken  her 
full  share  of  awful,  of  sacred,  duty,  now,  helpless  as  an  infant,  fell 


"SEEKING,    THEY  FIND."  293 

upon  the  resting-place  of  him  who  had  so  loved  her.  Martin  carried 
her  in  his  arms,  and  put  her  in  bed.  There  was  no  woman  near  to 
help  her.  No  one  came  to  inquire ;  though  that  day  was  succeeded 
by  others,  and  she  still  lay  in  a  burning  fever,  perfectly  unconscious  ; 
while  Martin,  ignorant  how  to  help,  but  most  tender,  watched  beside 
her.  There  was  no  one  left  but  him.  Even  Rex  was  gone  ;  for,  two 
days  after  Christie  was  buried,  Rex  was  found  dead  on  the  earth  that 
covered  the  child.  Faithful  friend,  he  could  not  outlive  his  master ! 


294 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

MR.    JOHN    SMITH. 

|T  was  the  fifth  clay  of    Christine's    illness.     There 
had  been  no  change.      The  same  fever,  the  same 
unconsciousness,  and  Martin  at  her  side,  moisten 
ing  the  hot  lips,  and  cooling  her  burning  head.    He 
looked  haggard  and  ill.     There  was  the  sound  of 
wheels  stopping  at  the  gate,  a  rapping  at  the  door  ; 
but  he  heeded  it  not.     His  whole  attention  was  given 
to  Christine.     His  heart  was  full  of  anxiety  for  her, 
grief  for  his  dead,  and  torturing  fears  for  Patience. 
He  did  not  even  hear  the  steps  through  the  house,  nor 
ascending   the  stairs.     Even  the  opening  of   the  door  was 
unnoticed.     It  was  not  until  a  voice  exclaimed,  in  tones  of   horror, 
"  Great  God  !  "  that  he  turned  his  head,  and  saw  John  Smith. 

He  was  looking  at  Christine.  Even  in  that  instant,  when  he 
thought  her  life  was  ebbing  fast  away,  he  loved  her  to  madness.  He 
touched  her  slender  wrist.  It  almost  scorched  his  finger,  and  the 
pulse  was  so  weak  and  rapid  he  could  not  count  it. 

"  She  is  desperately  ill,"  he  said  to  Martin.  "  Where  is  the 
woman  waiting  on  her  ?  " 

"  There  is  none,"  answered  Martin. 
"  Has  she  seen  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  There  is  none  in  the  village."  And  Martin  added  bitterly,  "  If 
there  were  one,  I  doubt  if  he  would  come.  Look  !  "  he  went  on,  "  that 


I 


MR.  JOHN  ^MfTN.  295 

poor  girl  lying  there,  and  her  old  grandfather,  have,  for  eleven  years, 
nursed  the  sick,  and  helped  the  poor,  of  this  village.  Yet  they  see 
him  pursued  by  a  murderous  band,  suspect  he  is  killed,  know  she  is 
ill,  and  never  one  has  called  to  say,  '  Can  I  assist  her  ? '  It  is  not  that 
they  do  not  love  her.  How  could  they  help  it  ? "  And  his  voice  fal 
tered.  "  But  it  is  that  they  are  afraid  to  succor  one  whose  friends 
and  kinsmen  were  murdered  by  Mormon  justice." 

"  Hush,  boy  !  "  said  John  Smith,  looking  quickly  around  to  assure 
himself  they  were  alone.  He  knew  the  truth  of  every  word  the  poor 
fellow  had  said.  But  they  were  words  not  to  be  spoken  aloud.  "  I 
will  find  some  woman  to  stay  with  her  to-night,  and  will  telegraph  to 
Salt  Lake  for  doctor  and  nurse  to  come  by  morning  train.  I  will  go 
at  once,  and  return  here  from  the  station.  The  latest  news  I  have  is 
this."  And,  as  he  started  off,  he  handed  Martin  an  open  telegram. 
It  was  the  one  Matthew  had  sent. 

"In  great  trouble.     Can  you  come  to  us  ?     Answer. 

"  MATTHEW   KLEIGWALD." 

These  few  words  had  outlasted  that  noble  life. 

Telling  the  driver  to  reach  the  station  as  quickly  as  possible,  John 
Smith  sprang  into  the  carriage. 

Matthew's  telegram  had  reached  Washington  ten  days  ago.  It 
was  handed  him  just  as  he  was  receiving  some  guests.  He  had  in 
vited  a  small  party  of  influential  men  to  a  most  elegant  dinner.  Those 
living  among  the  intrigues  of  any  great  capital,  know  the  value  and 
effect  of  select  and  elegant  dinners.  John  Smith  understood  how  to 
give,  and  how  to  make  them  effective.  As  a  host,  he  was  inimitable  ; 
and,  giving  entertainments  only  to  gentlemen,  these  gentlemen,  in 
the  enjoyment  of  his  princely  hospitality,  managed  to  forget  he  was  a 
Mormon  and  a  bigamist.  Entertaining  was  one  of  his  greatest  ac 
complishments.  He  never  allowed  any  thing  to  disturb  him  when 


296  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

once  he  had  undertaken  the  role.  And  yet,  as  he  read  this  short  mes 
sage  from  a  simple  country  farmer,  he  felt  the  very  ground  slipping 
from  under  his  feet.  Something  was  wrong  with  Christine,  and  she 
had  told  her  grandfather  to  telegraph  him.  Or  perhaps  she  was  ill, 
and  the  old  man  thought  he  could  direct  him  to  the  best  doctor. 
Perhaps  she  was  dead  !  And  John  Smith  turned  so  pale,  that  the 
guest  with  whom  he  had  been  talking  as  the  telegram  was  brought  in, 
asked,  with  some  alarm,  "  Is  any  thing  wrong  with  you  ? "  and  recalled 
him  to  himself. 

He  knew  there  was  no  train  going  West  within  three  hours.  At 
that  time  he  would  make  some  excuse,  and  leave  his  guests.  Up  to 
that  time  he  must  play  the  charmed  and  charming  host.  To  his  aid 
he  called  every  gift  and  power  of  pleasing  he  possessed.  He  made 
his  listeners  laugh  and  sigh  at  will,  and  never  seemed  more  absolutely 
fascinating  than  during  those  three  hours  that  were  to  him  more 
horrible  than  a  nightmare. 

To  every  word  he  uttered,  there  was  an  undercurrent  in  his  mind. 
"  Christine !  She  was  in  trouble,  and  called  on  him."  He  had 
thought  of  her  every  day  and  hour  since  he  parted  with  her.  But  he 
had  thought  of  her  as  one  dead  to  him  forever.  Loved  passionately, 
madly,  but,  like  a  star  in  heaven,  far,  far  beyond  his  reach.  And  now 
she  had  called  on  him,  —  or  Matthew  had.  And,  even  if  she  did  not 
want  him,  he  would  see  her  again,  —  again  press  her  slender  fingers, 
whose  lightest  touch  he  could  never  forget;  and,  with  this  inward 
flame  scorching  his  soul,  he  smiled,  talked  brilliantly,  and  charmed  the 
guests,  who,  at  that  very  moment,  he  was  hating,  as  the  chains  that 
bound  him  to  the  rock. 

The  clock  struck  the  hour.  In  twenty  minutes  the  train  would 
start.  They  were  only  in  the  sixth  course  :  there  were  three  more  to 
come,  and  wines  of  the  finest.  Rising  from  his  seat,  Mr.  Smith,  their 
host,  begged  for  a  moment  their  kindest  indulgence. 


MR.  JOHN  SMITH. 


297 


"  Gentlemen,  three  hours  ago  I  received  an  important  business 
telegram,  calling  me  West  immediately  and  imperatively.  All  men 
are  slaves  to  business,  and  I  must  obey.  But  every  slave  may  have 


"  MR.   SMITH    BEGGED   THEIR   INDULGENCE." 

his  memories  and  dreams  of  pleasures  past,  and  brightest  among  mine 
are  these  moments  when  I  have  been  honored  by  your  company.  I 
must  take  the  train  that  leaves  in  fifteen  minutes.  But  may  I,  before 
departing,  ask  the  favor  that  you  will  remain  until  the  little  dinner  is 
over,  and  keep  in  your  memory  a  place  for  him  whose  greatest  trial 
is  having  thus  to  leave  you  ? " 


298  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

The  words  were  few  and  simple.  But  his  manner  and  his  look  had 
that  great  personal  magnetism  which  made  of  his  lightest  spoken 
word  a  power. 

Amid  a  murmur  of  applause,  acquiescence,  and  regret,  John  Smith, 
bowing  and  smiling,  left  the  room.  Giving  a  few  words  of  direction 
to  his  secretary,  who  was  writing  in  the  ante-room,  he  threw  an  over 
coat  over  his  evening-dress,  dashed  out  of  the  house  into  a  carriage, 
and  was  off,  before  the  astonished  secretary  had  fully  realized  what  he 
had  heard. 

"  What's  up  now  with  the  old  man  !  "  said  that  irreverent  gentle 
man.  "  Is  the  president  of  the  church  dead,  and  is  old  John  going 
to  strike  for  it  ?  Or  have  all  his  women  perished  at  one  foul  blow, 
and  is  he  off  to  play  chief  mourner,  and  replenish  his  harem  ?  "  And 
the  young  fellow,  himself  a  Mormon,  gave  a  laugh  over  the  picture  he 
had  conjured  up. 

John  Smith  reached  the  depot  just  in  time  to  catch  the  train.  He 
was  alone  in  the  sleeper.  Thank  God  for  that !  No  need  for  further 
acting  to-night.  He  telegraphed  ahead,  and  engaged  the  drawing- 
rooms  to  Ogden,  so  he  would  not  be  needlessly  tortured  by  trouble 
some  acquaintances. 

After  days  and  night  interminably  long,  he  arrived  at  Salt-Lake 
City.  It  was  evening.  There  was  no  train  for  G before  the  morn 
ing.  So  he  drove  to  his  house,  astonishing  and  delighting  the  three 
Mrs.  Smiths.  They  asked  no  questions,  —  were  quite  satisfied  with 
the  "important  business"  which  gave  them  the  society  of  the  husband 
whom  they  held  in  "shares"  He  was  obliged  to  leave  them  early  in 
the  morning,  and  would  not  then  disturb  them,  he  said,  but  would 
hasten  back  as  soon  as  he  had  settled  his  matters,  and  steal  a  few  hours 
from  Washington  to  enjoy  with  them.  And  they  seemed  not  only 
satisfied,  but  pleased.  Marvellous  women  !  Was  it  all  acting  ?  John 
Smith  did  not  stop  to  question.  He  was  anxious  only  for  the  morrow. 


MR.  JOHN  SMITH.  299 

Carefully  dressed,  and  apparently  most  calm,  he  was  at  the  depot 
in  ample  time  for  the  train.  It  seemed  to  his  impatience  that  the 
stations  had  increased  wonderfully  since  last  he  travelled  this  road. 
He  knew  a  good  many  of  the  country  people  getting  in  and  out  at  the 
different  stations  ;  and  he  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  that  they  might 
not  see  and  speak  to  him.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  receive  their  almost 
worshipping  admiration.  At  that  moment  he  was  like  a  leaf  in  a 
storm,  tossed  hither  and  thither  by  a  thousand  ever  changing  fears. 

At  last  the  terminus  was  reached.  At  the  station  he  inquired  for 

Matthew,  and  was  told  that  Matthew  Kleigwald  had  left  G some 

days  ago.  "  It  was  a  night  journey,"  said  the  station-master,  who  knew 
John  Smith,  and  was  anxious  to  give  him  any  information  he  desired, 
as  well  as  to  enjoy  the  chance  of  a  gossip.  "  It  was  a  night  journey. 
The  old  man  took  off  one  o'  the  wives  o'  Bishop  White.  P'r'aps  it 
was  a  'lopement,  for  they  do  say  as  how  the  bishop  is  clean  tuckered 
out  about  it." 

An  elopement  !  John  Smith  clinched  the  hand  in  his  coat-pocket, 
and  felt  like  knocking  the  man  down.  But  he  said  nothing,  look 
ing  as  if  it  were  of  slight  import  to  him,  and  then,  quietly  walking 
up  and  down  the  platform,  waited  for  the  carriage  he  had  ordered, 
and  longed,  longed  to  ask  for  Christine.  But  he  dared  not.  He 
feared  her  name  on  his  lips  would  peril  his  self-control,  and  betray 
his  carefully  guarded  secret.  The  station-master,  however,  delighted 
to  speak  to  so  distinguished  a  fellow  Mormon,  joined  Mr.  Smith  as 
he  passed  the  door  of  the  little  office. 

"  You  knows  Kleigwald  pretty  well,  Mr.  Smith  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  Mr.  Smith  answered. 

"  Wai,  they  do  say  as  how  his  granddaughter  is  mighty  ill." 

Christine  ill !  The  cold  heart  of  the  distinguished  Mormon  gave 
a  heavy  throb  ;  but  his  voice,  as  calm  as  ever,  made  reply,  — 

"  Mrs.    Smith,  the   granddaughter  of    Matthew    Kleigwald,  is    my 


300     ,  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

niece.  I  have  heard  of  her  illness,  and  am  now  on  my  way  to  see  she 
has  every  attention." 

One  of  the  strongholds  of  the  Mormon  leaders  is  the  semblance 
and  pretence  of  good-fellowship  which  is  kept  up  among  the  brother 
hood.  Questions  are  asked,  and  seemingly  answered  with  frankness, 
that,  in  another  community,  would  be  treated  as  impertinence.  The 
power  this  gives  is  remarkable,  having  as  its  auxiliary  the  vanity  of 
the  masses.  But,  at  this  moment,  John  Smith  was  thinking  less  of 
political  power  than  of  shielding  Christine  under  his  acknowledged 
protection. 

Flattered  by  the  frankness  of  the  great  man,  and  changing  his 
tone  somewhat,  the  station-master  said,  — 

"  I  do  hope  you'll  find  the  young  ooman  better,"  as  he  thought, 
"  Oho !  she's  not  so  bad  off  if  the  Hon.  John  Smith's  a-lookin'  arter 
her." 

Just  then  the  carriage  drove  up  ;  and,  bowing  graciously  to  the 
station-master,  John  Smith  stepped  in,  saying  to  the  driver,  — 

"  Go  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

She  was  ill,  and  he  was  in  a  fever  of  anxiety.  The  carriage 
stopped  at  the  garden-gate  ;  and,  hurrying  up  the  walk,  John  Smith 
knocked  at  the  little  door,  first  softly,  then  louder  and  louder.  But,  no 
answer  coming  to  his  summons,  he  opened  the  door,  and  entered. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  hall,  nor  in  either  of  the  lower  rooms,  which 
were  in  strange  dust  and  disorder  for  the  neat  little  household.  With 
anxiety  growing  greater,  he  walked  quickly  out  to  the  kitchen,  to  send 
his  card  up  by  the  servant.  But  there  was  no  servant  to  be  found,  and 
in  the  kitchen  only  the  same  dreary  disorder.  More  and  more  anxious, 
John  Smith,  no  longer  considering  life's  conventionalities,  went  quickly 
up-stairs,  and,  first  rapping  at  a  door  standing  ajar,  pushed  it  open. 

"  Great  God  !  "  He  spoke  unconsciously,  as  with  horror  he  looked 
on  Christine.  He  saw  nothing  but  that  figure  on  the  bed. 


MR.  JOHN  SMITH. 


10 1 


How  ill  she  was  !  How  near  death  she  seemed  with  the  black  hair 
all  about  her,  the  half-closed  eyes,  and  fever-flushed  face  !  How  she 
had  suffered  since  he  saw  her  !  What  great  hollows  in  the  cheeks  he 
thought  so  perfect  in  their  soft  oval !  Yet,  robbed  of  her  freshness 
and  her  beauty,  looking  at  her  through  a  strange  mist  that  obscured 

his   vision,    he    still   loved    her   madly. 
He  had  no  thought  for  any  one  else, 
until  a  voice,  hollow  and  unnatural, 
said,  — 

"  Well !  "    And  then  he  looked 


"  HE   SAW   NOTHING    BUT   THAT   FIGURE   ON   THE   BED. 

at  the  face  of  the  boy  at  her  side.  He  knew  him  as  one  of  Matthew's 
prottgts  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  extreme  youth,  he  seemed  prematurely 
aged.  But  there  was  no  time  to  waste  on  him  or  any  one  until  Chris 
tine  was  succored  ;  so,  after  a  few  hasty  words,  thrusting  in  his  hands 
Matthew's  telegram,  John  Smith,  commanding  speed,  rode  off  to  the 
station.  He  took  off  his  hat  to  let  the  country  air  cool  his  head,  but 
the  air  brought  no  peace. 


302  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

He  had  seen  her  whom  he  had  travelled  so  many  miles  to  see,  of 
whom  he  had  thought  through  so  many  weary  days  and  nights.  He 
had  touched  her  hand,  had  called  her  name,  and  had  not  gained  even 
one  glance  from  her  unconscious  eyes.  For  all  his  power,  for  all  his 
wealth,  this  man  was  pursued  by  his  Nemesis. 

He  reached  the  station,  and  telegraphed  for  the  immediate  attend 
ance  of  Dr.  ,  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  profession  in  Salt 

Lake.  Then  he  sent  a  message  to  his  clerk,  to  find  at  once,  and  send 
by  morning  train,  Sallie  Brooks,  who  had  been  cook  for  Malcolm 
Smith's  first  wife.  This  woman  he  remembered  as  having  been  par 
ticularly  fond  of  Christine.  Poor  girl !  she  needed  all  affection,  and 
should  have  the  services  of  the  woman. 

"  She  shall  have  every  thing  I  can  give  her.  My  darling,"  he  said 
under  his  breath,  with  a  painful  contraction  of  throat  and  chest.  The 
telegrams  sent,  he  drove  back  to  Matthew's  house,  where  he  found 
installed  beside  the  unconscious  Christine  the  woman  he  had  sent 
from  the  village. 

Martin  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  of  the  little  sitting-room. 
The  boy  looked  ill  and  worn  ;  but  he  was  only  a  boy,  and  must  get 
used  to  hard  knocks.  It  was  the  lot  of  man,  and  in  general  was  of 
little  consequence  to  John  Smith,  who  shutting  the  door,  and  telling 
Martin  to  speak  in  whispers,  heard  the  story  of  the  sufferings  and  death 
of  Matthew,  Tabitha,  Christie,  and  of  the  disappearance  of  Patience. 

While  Martin  was  speaking,  John  Smith  had  shielded  his  face  with 
his  hand,  and,  through  all  the  terrible  recital,  was  listening  to  every 
slight  sound  from  the  room  up-stairs.  He  was  sorry  for  the  boy  :  he 
knew  the  truth  of  all  he  was  saying,  and  rather  deplored  these  terrible 
retributions.  But  he  also  knew  that  the  power  of  the  Mormon  Church 
depended  on  the  fear  it  inspired  in  its  believers  ;  and  he  had  risen, 
was  upheld,  by  the  power  of  that  church.  Ha  !  was  that  a  moan  from 
Christine  ?  No.  Had  he  been  in  Salt  Lake,  he  could  have  prevented 


MR.  JOHN  SMITH.  303 

the  mur —  the  punishment  of  the  good  old  man  and  his  friends.  But 
now  it  was  too  late,  and  the  less  said  of  the  matter  the  better. 
Matthew  was  a  good  man,  but  old  men  must  die.  Surely  that  was  a 
call  from  above  !  And  John  Smith  half  rose  from  his  seat,  then,  con 
vinced  of  his  mistake,  made  it  seem  only  a  change  of  position,  as  he 
went  on  with  his  thoughts.  It  was  a  pity  that  Matthew  should  have 
sacrificed  himself.  But  the  deepest  regret  of  John  Smith  was,  that 
all  this  had  caused  grief  and  illness  to  the  woman  he  loved. 

Martin,  walking  excitedly  up  and  down,  with  a  dry  sob  every  once 
in  a  while  breaking  through  his  hoarse  whisper,  hardly  looked  at  the 
quiet  man  with  shaded  face,  until,  with  a  "There,  you've  heard  it  !  — 
God,  I  wonder  you  don't  send  down  fire,  and  burn  up  such  cruel  devils  ! 
—  Well,  can  you  help  us  ?  "  by  his  abrupt  question  he  forced  an  answer. 

"  I  will  do  my  utmost,  and  think  I  will  be  able  to  find  your  sister." 
Then  he  assured  the  b'oy  of  his  deep  sympathy,  and  then,  for  a  mo 
ment  holding  his  arm,  cautioned  him  to  quiet  and  patience.  "  We  can 
easiest  work  if  we  work  quietly.  I  will  at  once  call  on  Bishop  White." 

"  He  is  not  in  town.  As  soon  as  the  woman  came  to  stay  with 
Christine,  I  went  to  his  house.  It  was  closed.  The  only  person  I  saw 
was  a  boy  about  the  stables.  He  said  the  bishop  was  away,  and  would 
not  be  back  for  some  time." 

"  Then,  my  dear  boy,  I  will  find  him,  and  speak  to  him.  If  pos 
sible,  I  will  find  where  your  sister  is,  and  let  you  know.  But  again  I 
caution  you  to  be  patient  and  quiet." 

The  night  dragged  through  somehow.  Towards  morning,  Martin, 
exhausted,  fell  asleep  on  the  lounge,  the  nurse  dozing  in  a  chair  at  the 
foot  of  Christine's  bed  ;  and  John  Smith,  at  her  side,  moistened  the 
hot  lips,  and  smoothed  the  burning  hands  and  brow.  Thus  near  her, 
serving  her,  unconscious  as  she  was,  he  passed  the  happiest,  saddest 
moments  of  his  life. 

The  next  day  came  the  doctor  and  Sallie.     How  the  good  woman 


304  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

wept  when  she  saw  Christine  so  ill,  so  changed  !  She  told  Mr.  Smith 
that  her  own  children  were  dead  ;  and,  if  he  would  arrange  it  so  she 
could  be  free  from  her  husband,  she  would  never  leave  "  Miss  Chris 
tine."  This  John  Smith  readily  agreed  to  do,  settling  on  Sallie  a 
handsome  annuity  so  long  as  she  should  stay  in  Christine's  service ; 
and  this  was  to  be  unknown  to  any  but  themselves. 

The  doctor  found  his  patient  very  ill,  her  case  much  complicated 
by  her  delicate  condition.  For  three  days  she  hovered  between  life 
and  death. 

While  she  was  still  unconscious,  her  baby  was  born  before  its 
time,  —  dead.  Sallie  loyingly  laid  it  beside  the  place  Martin  showed 
her  as  Matthew's  grave.  He  had  no  headstone  save  his  noble  life, 
and  that  seemed  forgotten  by  the  people  he  had  served. 

Martin  told  Sallie  all  of  their  griefs,  and  she  wept  over  him  and 
petted  him  as  if  he  had  been  her  son.  For  three  days  Christine's  life 
hung  in  the  balance.  For  three  days,  at  John  Smith's  request,  the 
doctor,  neglecting  all  his  other  practice,  remained  to  attend  her ;  and 
John  Smith,  forgetting  all  the  world  outside  that  sick-room,  watched 
beside  Christine,  and  helped  Sallie  nurse  the  love  of  his  life. 

At  last  the  turn  was  made  ;  and  Christine,  broken-hearted,  lonely 
Christine,  came  back  to  life.  The  first  conscious  dawning  of  the  dark 
eyes  drove  John  Smith  away.  Learning  from  Martin  how  Matthew's 
property  stood,  he  bought  at  a  liberal  price  the  farming  lands  and 
stock.  The  money  he  placed,  settled  on  Christine  alone,  at  the  same 
bankers  who  had  charge  of  her  dowry.  He  showed  to  Martin  the 
letter  he  had  written.  He  said  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  do  a  little 
farming.  But  if  Christine,  on  growing  stronger,  would  like  that  care, 
she  should  have  the  property  back  again.  And,  having  settled  her 
affairs  so  that  she  would  have  an  ample  income,  John  Smith  bade 
her  farewell  one  day  while  she  slept,  and  the  next  morning  was  on 
the  road  to  Washington. 


SALLIE'S  LETTER. 


305 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

SALLIE'S  LETTER. 

'ONTHS  had  passed.  It  was  now  the  last  of  March. 
The  weather  had  been  cold  and  rainy.  A  new 
sorrow  had  fallen  on  Christine.  One  morning, 
desperate  from  their  long  and  fruitless  search, 
despite  her  pleadings,  Martin  had  gone  to  Bishop 
White's. 

"  Villain,"  he  had  said,  "  tell  me  where  my  sister 
is.  Give  her  to  my  care,  or  I  will  make  you  rue  the 
day  you  ever  wronged  a  helpless  woman." 

He  looked  so  tall  and  resolute,  that  the  bishop 
promised,  if  he  would  come  on  the  morrow,  he  would 
give  him  his  sister.  In  triumph  Martin  hastened  back  to  Christine. 
That  evening,  for  some  slight  cause,  he  went  out  to  the  front  of  the 
house.  Christine,  alarmed  at  his  absence,  ran  out  in  the  rain  to  find 
him.  He  lay  prostrate  by  the  gate,  — dead,  with  blood  running  from 
a  wound  under  his  left  shoulder.  She  knew  he  had  been  killed  by  the 
same  fell  power  that  had  murdered  her  grandfather.  Again  there  was 
a  midnight  burial  in  that  little  front-garden.  The  grave  was  made  by 
Sallie  and  Thomas,  —  a  man  sent  from  Salt  Lake  by  John  Smith,  and 
warranted  by  him  as  trustworthy  ;  and  Christine,  whose  heart  had 
seemed  full  to  bursting  with  sorrow,  had  now  a  fresh  one.  In  his  youth 
and  strength,  in  the  noble  promise  of  manhood,  Martin  was  stricken 
down  because  he  sought  to  protect  a  young  and  helpless  sister.  And 


306  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

now  Christine  was  left  alone  to  seek  Patience.  Where  was  she  ?  This 
question  came  to  her  at  the  dead  of  night,  in  the  earliest  dawning,  and 
all  through  the  long  hours  of  the  day. 

Father,  Tabitha,  Christie,  Martin,  her  little  baby  that  she  never 
saw,  all  dead,  all  gone  !  But  this  trust  left  to  her,  —  to  find  Pa 
tience. 

When  Christine  recovered  from  her  illness,  and  heard  from  Sallie 
of  some  of  John  Smith's  kindness,  she  wrote  him  a  few  lines  of  thanks, 
and  then  added  a  piteous  postscript,  telling  of  the  lost  girl,  and 
imploring  in  her  search  Mr.  Smith's  influence.  He  wore  this  little 
note  next  his  heart,  and  never  parted  from  it.  He  answered  it  by  a 
kindly  one,  assuring  her  that  he  had  not  been  idle  in  the  interests  of 
her  friends,  —  that  he  thought  he  had  a  clew,  and  hoped  to  be  able  to 
give  her  some  reliable  tidings  erelong  ;  that  he  would  return  to  Salt 
Lake  by  the  middle  of  March,  and  would  make  the  finding  of  her 
friend  his  first  care.  This  note  came  the  very  morning  after  Martin 
was  killed.  Christine  was  too  broken  down  to  think  of  any  thing  for 
days  and  days  after  this  cruel  blow.  Had  it  not  been  for  Sallie's  care, 
she  would  again  have  fallen  into  illness. 

Sad  as  was  her  life,  she  dared  not  even  wish  to  die  while  poor 
Patience  was  among  the  missing.  She  knew  that  Bishop  White  could 
unravel  this  mystery  ;  and,  as  soon  as  she  was  able  to  go  out  after 
Martin's  death,  she  went  to  see  this  cruel  man.  He  looked  nervous 
and  ill  at  ease.  But  he  received  her  politely  ;  and  he  swore,  with  the 
most  solemn  oaths,  that  he  knew  nothing  of  Patience  since  she  had 
left  his  house,  —  that  the  sorrow  and  death  that  had  fallen  on  her 
friends  were  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  him  as  to  her.  Sickened  at  his 
falsehood,  she  left  the  house  so  weak  that  she  could  hardly  walk  to 
the  carriage  waiting  at  his  gate.  Sallie  was  looking  out  for  her.  She 
ran  down  the  walk  to  give  her  her  strong  arm  to  lean  on,  and  then 
again,  for  several  days,  nursed  her  with  a  mother's  tenderness.  As 


SALLIE' S  LETTER.  307 

soon  as  Christine  grew  a  little  stronger,  Sallie  wrote  to  Mr.  Smith,  and 
told  him  of  Martin's  death. 

"  It  has  almost  killed  Miss  Christine.  She  does  look  that  pitiful  and  miserable, 
that  my  heart  is  like  to  break.  For  days  she  was  too  weak  to  stand.  I  missed  her 
like  my  own  baby.  If  she  was,  I  couldn't  love  her  better  nor  I  do.  When  she  was 
able  to  move,  she  had  Thomas  hitch  up  the  carriage,  and  drive  her  to  that  Bishop 
White's.  What  the  ole  varmint  said  to  her,  I  don't  know.  But  she  corned  back 
a-looking  more  ill  than  ever.  And  when  I  just  riz  up,  and  called  him  a  devil,  —  begging 
your  pardon,  sir,  that's  jest  what  I  sed,  —  she,  a-looking  so  white  and  sick,  jest 
answered,  '  Let  us  pray  God  to  forgive  him,  Sallie.'  Well,  I  guess  I  ain't  no  Chris 
tian  ;  for,  while  I  prayed  jest  to  please  my  deary,  I  thought  if  I  had  God's  power 
jest  fora  little,  I'd  make  him  suffer  a  lot  afore  I'd  forgive  the  wicked  ole  wretch. 
And  now  Miss  Christine's  only  been  up  and  on  her  feet  five  days,  and  what  do  you 
think  these  miserable  critters  did  ?  Some  on  'em  fell  sick,  and  sent  for  her  to  doctor 
them.  I  tried  to  stop  her  when  I  seed  her  puttin'  on  her  bunnet ;  but  I  couldn't  say 
nothing  when  she  looked  at  me  with  them  great  sad  eyes,  and  said,  so  soft-like, 
'  Sallie,  would  you  keep  me  from  helping  the  suffering  ?  It  is  all  the  comfort  I  have.' 
So,  sir,  I  jest  whipped  on  my  bunnet:  and  sez  I,  '  If  you  go,  Miss  Christine,  Thomas 
shall  drive  you  in  the  little  close  carriage  Mr.  Smith  sent  down  ;  and  I  shall  go  with 
you,  to  see  you  don't  a-tire  yourself  out.'  She  didn't  want  me  to  go  in  the  house  with 
her.  She  said  it  was  something  the  matter  with  the  throat.  Dip  something,  she 
called  it.  But,  indeed,  while  I  don't  like  to  be  sick  no  more  than  nothing,  I  thought 
if  it  was  catching  for  me,  it  was  catching  for  her ;  so  I  jest  goes  in.  The  smell  was 
somethin'  orful.  I  put  the  camfor  to  my  nose  my  dear  Miss  gave  me,  and  then  I 
could  hardly  stand  the  smell.  But  I  looked  at  her  pretty  nose  that  had  no  camfor 
to  it,  and  she  looked  so  sweet  and  angel-like,  that  I  jest  felt  ashamed  of  myself.  But 
I  held  on  to  the  camfor  all  the  same.  And  now,  for  the  last  three  days,  she's  jest  been 
a-goin'  and  a-goin'  to  the  sick  ones.  There  seems  to  be  a  new  lot  every  day.  And 
there's  no  doctor,  and  they  all  send  for  my  dear  young  lady  ;  and  she  jest  goes,  and 
gives  her  medicines  and  her  care,  and  don't  even  get  no  thanks.  It  jest  keeps  my  blood 
a-bilin'.  She  told  me  last  night  perhaps  she  might  hear  from  some  on  the  sick  and 
dyin'  what's  become  of  that  poor  little  Miss  Patience,  who  seems  orful  dear  to  her." 

So  Sallie's  letter  went  on.  She  used  often  to  send  letters  to  Mr. 
Smith.  She  would  take  great  pains  with  them,  and  look  for  the 


308  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

spelling  of  all  the  hard  words  in  Christine's  largest  dictionary.  And, 
as  answer  to  each  letter,  she  would  receive  a  handsome  present.  John 
Smith  knew  she  was  a  true,  honest  woman ;  and  he  liked  to  think 
Christine  had  so  good  and  capable  a  servant.  And  Sallie  felt  quite 
at  home  with  the  great  Mr.  Smith.  Of  all  the  world,  this  poorly  edu 
cated  woman,  this  servant,  was  the  only  one  who  had  guessed  his 
secret.  She  was  really  honest  and  true ;  for  she  carried  it  to  the  grave 
with  her,  and  never,  by  look  or  word,  betrayed  it.  But  she  would 
think  of  it,  and  like  him  all  the  better  for  the  love  he  could  not 
control. 


GOOD  FOR  EVIL. 


309 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

GOOD    FOR   EVIL. 

HE  rains  fell,  the  winds  blew,  and  diphtheria  became 
an  epidemic  in  the  little  village.  Christine,  out  of 
her  own  purse,  sent  for  a  doctor.  She  wrote  to  John 
Smith,  saying  she  would  pay  all  expenses,  and  asking 
him  to  send  one  immediately.  There  came  to  her  aid 
a  clever  young  fellow,  Dr.  Grey. 

He  worked  faithfully  ;  and,  when  she  asked  his 
terms,  he  said,  when  engaged  by  Mr.  Smith,  he  had 
already  been  most  liberally  prepaid.  With  the  ill, 
dead,  and  dying  around  them,  Christine  had  no  time  for 
argument  or  explanation.  She  was  kept  busy,  —  even  more  so  than 
before  the  doctor  came  ;  for  the  disease  was  on  the  increase,  and 
there  was  no  time  for  either  to  rest.  The  little  close  carriage  was 
constantly  in  motion. 

One  night,  quite  late,  there  came  a  summons  at  the  door. 
"  Mrs.  White  is  dying,  and  sends  for  the  doctor  and  Miss  Christine." 
Hurriedly  throwing  on   his    coat,  the   doctor  ran  for  the  carriage 
while    Sallie  wrapped   up   her  mistress.     The  faithful  creature  would 
not  go  to  bed  during  these  terrible  nights  when  the  knocker  was  kept 
going,  and  messages  came  from  the  ill  and  dying,  calling  upon  Chris 
tine.     She  never  refused  her  help.     Yet,  as  Sallie  put  on  her  warm 
wraps,  she  looked  so  frail  and  shadowy,  that  the  good  woman  began 
to  cry. 


310  SALT-LAKE   FRUIT. 

"  I  know  you'll  be  sick  yourself,  my  sweet  lady,"  she  sobbed.  And 
Christine  leaned  down  and  kissed  her  as  the  carriage-wheels  sounded 
on  the  road. 

They  drove  rapidly  to  Bishop  White's.  Christine  thought  of  the 
only  time  she  had  entered  this  house.  She  thought  of  Patience,  and 
shuddered  as  all  the  poor  girl  had  here  suffered  rose  before  her.  And, 
thinking  these  thoughts,  she  went  quickly  up  the  stairs,  to  serve  with 
all  her  ability  her  bitterest  enemies.  She  entered  the  sick-room. 
The  room  of  death,  she  thought  it  soon  would  be,  when  the  face  of 
the  woman  lying  on  the  bed  met  her  gaze. 

Mrs.  White  was  dying.  She  knew  it.  She  was  no  weak  sinner, 
ready  to  cry  and  bewail  her  past  wickedness.  She  motioned  away  the 
doctor,  saying,  "  I  am  past  your  help,"  then,  beckoning  to  Christine, 
spoke  to  her  in  husky  whispers,  sometimes  hardly  articulate. 

"  I  am  dying,  —  I  know  it.  I  sent  for  you,  —  for  I  have  deeply  — 
injured  you  and  yours.  Can  you  forgive  ?  Will  God  forgive  ?  I  have 
always  —  said  there  was  no  God.  It  suited  me  to  believe  it  ;  —  and  I 
succeeded  when  —  I  was  well  —  and  strong.  But  I've  been  ailing 
some  time;  —  and  I've  been  watching  you, — never  tiring  in  —  serv 
ing  the  people,  —  who,  when  —  you  needed  them,  —  turned  away. 
You  have  —  helped  every  one  —  who  called  on  you.  There  must  be 
a  God  —  to  teach  such  forgiveness.  I  have  suffered  —  greatly  for  — 
two  days.  Would  not  send  for  you  —  till  I  knew  —  I  was  near  — 
death.  Pray  for  —  me,  —  and  tell  me  how  to  pray.  I  have  a  sin,  —  a 
fearful  sin  upon  —  my  soul.  Patience  White  —  she  is  living  —  but 
insane.  Is  confined  in  "  —  And  here  her  voice  completely  failed. 
She  was  trying  to  speak  ;  but  the  awful  choking,  that  in  diphtheria 
often  precedes  death,  prevented  Christine  from  catching  the  words. 

"  Where  is  Patience  ?  "  she  whispered  in  the  dying  ears,  and  then 
bent  over  to  listen.  But  the  woman  was  already  in  the  throes  of 
death.  She  could  only  say  "  Bishop  White,"  and  then,  imploringly, 


GOOD  FOR  EVIL.  311 

"  Pray."  And  Christine,  putting  all  other  thoughts  aside,  prayed  for 
the  dying.  Imploring  mercy  for  a  sinful  soul,  her  voice  rose  and  fell 
on  the  still  air  of  death's  chamber. 

Mrs.  White  seemed  trying  to  pray ;  but  with  a  few  gasps,  a  choking 
effort  to  get  her  breath,  she  was  dead.  Gone  to  face  her  Maker,  arjd 
the  woman  she  had  so  injured  praying  at  the  side  of  her  dead  body. 

As  Christine  joined  the  doctor  in  the  hall,  a  door  opened,  and  out 
came  Bishop  White.  He  was  ghastly  with  fright.  He  shook  as  if  he 
had  the  palsy. 

"  Is  she  better  ?  "  he  said. 

"  She  is  dead,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  My  Lord  !  Dead  !  Is  it  catching  ?  I've  not  been  near  her  since 
she  was  taken  sick.  I  kept  down  here.  Do  you  think  I'll  have  it  ?  " 
And  then,  "  Doctor,  look  down  my  throat.  It  feels  a  little  queer." 

Holding  a  candle,  the  doctor  looked.  Yes,  there  was  already  the 
inflammation  that  preceded  the  dread  disease. 

"  Am  I  all  right  ?  Is  any  thing  wrong  ?  "  he  asked,  as  the  doctor 
did  not  reply  to  his  first  question. 

"Well,  Bishop  White,"  the  doctor  answered,  "there  is  a  little 
inflammation.  But  we'll  take  it  in  time,  and  I  hope  you'll  be  well  in 
a  few  days." 

"  O  God,  O  God !  "  cried  the  bishop,  his  face  turning  almost  green 
with  fright.  "  I'm  going  to  die,  I'm  going  to  die  !  Doctor,  I'm  a 
rich  man.  If  you  save  me,  I'll  give  you  a  thousand  dollars.  Two 
thousand,  three  thousand ! "  he  shrieked,  as,  seeing  the  doctor  turn 
towards  the  door,  he  thought  he  was  going. 

Doctor  Grey  only  went  to  his  case  to  get  some  medicine.  Selecting 
some  powders,  he  put  one  in  the  bishop's  mouth,  and  said  quietly,  — 

"  I  will  save  you  if  I  can,  Bishop  White.  But,  if  you  want  to  get 
well,  you  must  keep  calm.  Your  nervousness  may  increase  your 
disease." 


312 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


He  gave  him  the  powders  to  take  during  the  night,  and  went  to 
the  door,  holding  it  open  for  Christine  to  pass  out.  For  the  first  time, 
Bishop  White  saw  she  was  there. 


DOCTOR,    LOOK    DOWN    MY    THROAT.' 


"  Don't  go  !     For  God's  sake  don't  go,  and  leave  me  here  !  "     And 
he  ran,  and  caught  Christine's  cloak. 

In  all  her  life,  she  had  never  felt  such  a  repulsion  for  any  created 


GOOD  FOR  EVIL.  313 

thing  as  she  did  for  this  man.  Yet  she  gently  pushed  him  back,  and 
said,  — 

"  Keep  out  of  the  draught,  or  you  will  grow  worse." 

"Oh,  then,  stay  with  me  !     Take  care  of  me,  and  make  me  well." 

He  was  sobbing  and  crying  as  he  shook  with  fright.  Christine 
hesitated.  This  man  knew  where  Patience  was.  He  alone  could  tell 
her.  She  would  make  a  compact  with  him.  For,  once  well,  he  might 
once  more  be  the  same  cruel,  unnatural  father. 

"  Come,  madam,"  said  Doctor  Grey.  "  You  are  tired  out,  and  need 
repose." 

"  Stay,  oh,  stay  with  me  !  "  cried  the  pitiable  coward  at  her  side. 

"  Bishop  White,"  she  said,  "  I  will  stay  with  you  on  one  condition, 
—  that  you  will  tell  me  in  what  asylum  you  have  put  your  daughter 
Patience,  and  write  me  the  order  for  her  release." 

As  soon  as  she  said  "  condition,"  some  of  the  old  shrewd  cunning 
came  into  the  bishop's  eyes.  But  he  started  when  she  asked  "  in 
what  asylum." 

"  Who  told  you  she  was  in  an  asylum  ?  "  he  asked. 

Christine  answered,  "  Either  do  as  I  require,  or  I  go."  And  she 
moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Stay  !  For  God's  sake,  stay  !  "  he  cried.  "  I  will  do  as  you  wish 
if  you  promise  not  to  leave  me." 

Christine  took  off  her  bonnet  and  cloak.  She  asked  the  doctor 
for  paper  and  pencil.  Handing  them  to  Bishop  White,  she  said,  — 

"  Write  the  order  for  release." 

Tremblingly,  but  clearly,  he  wrote,  — 

G ,  April   10. 

DOCTOR  Y . 

My  dear  Sir,  —  Please  deliver  into  the  care  of  bearer  my  daughter,  Patience 
White,  whom  I  put  in  your  care  December  last.  Any  unpaid  charges  the  bearer  will 

settle. 

Yours, 

T.  C.   WHITE. 


314  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

A  miser  to  the  last !  But  Christine  was  content,  and,  taking  the 
paper,  gave  it  to  the  doctor's  care. 

"  Doctor  Grey,"  she  said,  "  hand  this  to  Sallie,  and  tell  her  for 
me,  should  I  die  before  she  sees  me,  she  must  go  direct  to  Salt  Lake, 
ask  Mr.  John  Smith  to  accompany  her  to  this  asylum,  and  take  away 
Patience  White.  Tell  her  to  ask  Mr.  John  Smith,  for  me,  to  have  my 
property  settled  on  Patience,  and  to  make  Sallie  her  guardian  until 
Patience  shall  recover  her  reason.  This  is  my  last  will  and  testament." 

It  was  a  solemn  moment.  They  both  knew  she  was  offering  up 
her  life  for  her  friend  ;  for,  in  her  exhausted  condition,  to  keep  to  the 
confinement  of  the  sick-room  of  that  terrible  disease  was  almost  sure 
death. 

Doctor  Grey  took  the  precious  bit  of  paper,  and,  raising  Christine's 
hand  to  his  lips,  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  as  he  would  have  done 
to  a  queen. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said.     "  I  will  call  to-morrow." 

He  entered  the  carriage,  and  drove  to  Christine's  house.  He  was 
actually  afraid  to  meet  Sallie's  wrath  when  she  would  find  him  alone. 

She  did  truly  rave  and  storm.  And  he  went  off  to  bed  feeling 
very  much  like  a  whipped  school-boy. 


THE   LOVELIEST   WOMAN. 


315 


CHAPTER     XXXIX. 

THE  LOVELIEST  WOMAN. 

ISHOP  WHITE  was  dead.  After  two  weeks  of 
most  faithful  nursing,  Christine  watching  beside 
him  day  and  night,  he  fell  into  delirium  and  con 
vulsions  ;  and,  in  one  of  these  spasms,  he  passed 
from  this  world,  which  had  been  every  thing  to 
him,  to  that  other  for  which  he  had  so  illy  pre 
pared.  True  to  the  last,  she  knelt  by  his  side  dur 
ing  these  awful  moments,  praying,  as  she  had 
never  before  prayed,  for  this  wretched  sinner  who 
could  not  pray  for  himself. 

Doctor  Grey  had  called  daily,  doing  all  in  his 
power  for  the  sick  man,  and  giving  strongest  tonics  to  the  delicate 
woman  who  was  tending  him. 

Sallie  wanted  to  go  to  her  mistress,  but  Christine  had  sent  word 
imploring  her  to  keep  away  from  the  contagion  ;  for  on  Sallie,  should 
she  die,  depended  the  future  of  Patience.  So  fuming  and  fretting, 
making  the  doctor's  few  hours  at  home  very  far  from  comfortable, 
Sallie  passed  the  two  weeks  of  Bishop  White's  illness. 

The  disease  was  on  the  wane  now  ;  and  the  village,  except  for  the 
many  fresh  graves  in  the  little  cemetery,  seemed  much  the  same  as 
before,  so  soon  are  the  dead  forgotten,  and  their  places  filled,  even  in 
this  little  world. 

Sallie  was   all  bustle  and  preparation  ;   for  the  doctor  had  sent  a 


316  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

boy  running  up,  to  tell  her  that  Bishop  White  was  dead,  and  he  would 
shortly  drive  home  with  Mrs.  Smith.  So  the  good  creature  was  flying 
around  in  a  terrible  flurry  to  make  things  look  even  neater  than  usual 
for  the  "  poor  deary." 

She  saw  the  carriage,  and  rushed  to  the  door,  as  red  as  a  peony,  and 
as  warm  as  if  it  were  July.  She  fairly  lifted  Christine  out  of  the  car 
riage,  talking,  laughing,  crying,  as  she  helped  her  up  to  the  house. 
She  had  feared  to  see  some  great  change  in  her  dear  mistress  after 
these  weeks  of  fatigue,  and  she  was  so  thankful  to  find  her  much  the 
same.  Frail  and  delicate  as  it  was  possible  for  a  woman  to  be  and 
live,  yet  she  did  not  seem  any  nearer  death  than  when  Sallie  had 
cried  over  her  the  evening  she  started  for  Bishop  White's.  And 
now,  in  that  sad,  sad  face,  there  was  a  look  as  if  the  sun  were  shining 
on  it. 

"Sallie,"  she  said,  "  to-morrow  we  will  start  for  Patience." 

And  then  Sallie  knew  the  meaning  of  that  look. 

"  O  my  sweet  lady ! "  Sallie  answered,  "  you  are  not  strong 
enough."  But  when  she  saw  the  mouth  sadden,  and  the  large  eyes 
look  as  if  tears  were  in  them,  she  knelt  at  Christine's  feet,  and  said, 
"  You  shall  go,  deary,  if  I  have  to  carry  you  in  my  arms." 

So,  the  next  morning,  Christine,  Sallie,  and  Dr.  Grey  all  went  to 
the  city.  Dr.  Grey  was  returning  to  resume  his  practice.  At  the 
station  they  parted.  Christine  had  told  him  she  was  going  to  take 
Patience  from  the  asylum,  and  asked  him  to  call  at  the  hotel  in  the 
evening  to  see  her.  He  readily  promised.  He  was  glad  to  be  able 
to  do  any  thing  for  Mrs.  Smith.  During  their  many  weeks  of  work 
ing  together,  he  had  been  amazed  at  her  intelligence,  endurance,  and 
tender  sympathy  with  suffering.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  met,  or  even 
heard  of,  such  a  woman.  So  grand,  so  noble,  and  so  womanly,  she 
seemed  to  him  as  if  set  apart  for  the  worship  of  mankind  ;  and  he 
dreaded  never  seeing  her  again.  He  was  thankful  they  would  still 


THE   LOVELIEST   WOMAN.  317 

have  a  bond  between  them  in  the  disease  of  the  young  girl  who  was 
only  a  name  to  him. 

He  called  a  carriage  for  Mrs.  Smith,  and,  helping  her  and  Sallie 
into  it,  stood  looking  smilingly  after  them.  He  no  longer  felt  so  deso 
late.  He  was  no  longer  a  poor  young  doctor  hunting  up  a  practice. 
He  felt  that  he  had  been  honored  by  the  respect  of  the  loveliest 
woman  he  could  ever  know. 


3'S 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

THE  LOST  IS  FOUND. 

HE  carriage  drove  to  John  Smith's  office.  Mr.  Smith 
was  very  busy,  —  had  denied  himself  to  all  visitors  ; 
but  when  his  office-boy,  putting  his  head  in  the 
partly  open  door,  said,  "  There's  a  woman,  and  a 
sickly-looking  lady  in  mourning,  who  wants  to  see 
you.  Shall  I  say  you  are  out,  sir  ?  "  he  sprang  up 
from  his  writing,  and  nearly  knocked  the  boy  over 
as  he  brushed  past  him. 

Yes,  it  was  Christine,  looking  like  a  fair  spirit  in 
her  black  robes  ;  and  Sallie,  all  smiles  and  courtesies. 
When  Christine  asked  if   he    could  go  with  them   to  the  insane- 
asylum  in  charge  of  Dr.  Y ,  he  was  as  pleased  as  a  boy  off  for  a 

holiday.     He  locked  up  his  papers,  and,  saying  he  would  not  be  back 
before  morning,  started  off  at  once  with  Christine  and  Sallie. 

On  the  road,  Christine  showed  him  Bishop  White's  order  for  the 
release  of  Patience. 

"  But,  as  it  is  a  Mormon  asylum,  I  knew  this,  or  any  doctor's  cer 
tificate,  would  be  less  effective  than  personal  influence." 

She  spoke  so  gently,  looked  at  him  so  calmly  !  yet  this  was  the  first 
time,  since  his  mad  avowal  of  love,  that  she  had  been  conscious  when 
he  was  with  her.  And  that  love  was  at  this  moment  eating  his  heart 
out  as  he  gazed  at  her,  and  saw  she  was  fading  away. 

She  did  not  refer  to  any  thing  that  had  ever  occurred  in  Salt  Lake. 


THE  LOST  IS  FOUND.  319 

Could  she  have  forgotten  those  moments  when  he  bared  his  soul 
before  her  horror-struck  eyes  ?  If  she  had,  and  he  could  once  more 
resume  the  part  of  a  tender  uncle,  he  would  ask  no  greater  boon 
of  life.  But,  no  :  that  was  impossible.  Never  again  could  he  enter 
that  paradise,  for  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword  stood  at  the 
gate. 

It  was  quite  a  long  ride  to  the  asylum.  Whatever  difficulties  stood 
in  the  way,  John  Smith's  name  and  power  pushed  aside. 

Dr.  Y himself  came  to  see  his  distinguished  visitor.  He 

desired  to  have  the  patient  sent  for.  But  Christine  declined.  She 
wanted  to  go  to  the  cell  herself.  She  believed  the  sudden  surprise  of 
a  familiar  face  would  have  a  good  effect. 

She  was  pale  as  marble,  perfectly  courteous  to  the  doctor,  but  very 
determined  ;  and  John  Smith,  willing  in  all  things  to  please  her,  sec 
onded  her  wish  with  unanswerable  arguments.  The  doctor  felt  vexed 
enough  to  have  confined  this  obstinate  young  woman  in  a  cell  of  her 
own  ;  but  he  only  smiled  affably,  and  led  the  way. 

"  I  warn  you,  madam,"  he  said.  "  This  young  person,  though 
seemingly  gentle,  is  one  of  our  most  dangerous  lunatics.  We  are 
forced  sometimes  to  put  her  in  one  of  the  garden-cells,  she  grows  so 
much  more  violent  when  in  a  close  room." 

Christine  simply  inclined  her  head.  Her  gentle  heart  ached  with 
pity  at  the  sight  of  so  many  unfortunates.  As  she  glanced  at  them  in 
passing,  their  cells  seemed  small,  badly  ventilated,  and  badly  lighted. 
The  air  was  close,  and  had  an  unpleasant  odor  ;  and,  although  the 
weather  was  cold  and  damp,  she  felt  relieved  when  they  passed  out  of 
the  house  into  the  "  garden,"  as  the  doctor  called  it.  A  strange  gar 
den,  and  awful  flowers !  There  were  a  good  many  iron  cages  around 
in  different  places  ;  and  in  them,  oh,  horror  !  exposed  to  the  sun's 
heat,  the  cold  wind  and  rain,  were  confined  human  beings.  Some  were 
men,  and  some  women  like  herself.  They  were  all  perfectly  still  as 


320  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

the  doctor  approached,  and  stood  looking  at  him  with  terror  in  their 
wild  eyes. 

"  Poor  things  !  "  Christine  murmured,  while  tears  of  pity  sprang 
to  hers. 

The  doctor  was  a  little  in  advance  of  them,  and  was  hastening  his 
steps,  increasing  the  distance  between  them.  Why,  she  could  not 
tell,  Christine  quickened  her  steps  almost  to  a  run,  until,  standing 
beside  him,  out  of  breath,  she  laid  one  slender  hand  upon  his  arm,  as 
if  for  support.  John  Smith  had  kept  pace  with  her,  and  stood  at  her 
other  side.  It  was  the  sight  of  him  there,  as  if  guarding  her,  that 
changed  the  doctor's  baleful  look  into  a  smile.  As  they  stood  a  mo 
ment,  Christine  heard  a  voice  that  chilled  her  very  blood, — a  sad, 
wailing  cry,  — 

"  Dead,  dead  !  All  dead  !  Oh,  kill  me  too  !  In  mercy  kill  me 
too  !  "  And  then  a  man's  rough  voice,  — 

"  Be  still,  you  little  devil,  or  I'll  make  you." 

At  this,  Christine,  who  had  stopped,  and  gasped  for  breath,  hurried 
on.  A  path  opened  on  her  left.  Patience's  voice,  still  wailing,  com 
ing  from  that  direction,  she  turned  in  time  to  see  a  heavy  whip,  in  the 
hand  a  burly  fellow  had  thrust  through  the  bars,  descend  with  a 
"whiz"  on  the  shrinking  shoulders  of  her  dear  girl.  She  gave  one 
scream,  and  ran  towards  the  iron  cage. 

Patience,  who  had  cowered  down  at  the  blow,  when  she  heard 
Christine's  voice  sprang  to  her  feet.  Pale,  thin  to  emaciation,  her 
large  eyes  wildly  staring,  and  the  wasted  arms,  showing  through  rags, 
extended  as  if  for  an  embrace,  she  stood,  the  pitiful  ghost  of  herself. 
She  seemed  to  see  nothing,  but  appeared  as  if  each  faculty  was  ab 
sorbed  in  listening.  In  her  madness  she  had  heard  a  dimly  remem 
bered  voice ;  and  now  there  were  coming  quick  footsteps,  nearer, 
nearer,  and  then  some  one  calling  lovingly,  "  Patience,  Patience  !  " 

The  madness  brightened  into  intelligence,  as,  with  a  glad  cry  of 


THE  LOST  IS  FOUND.  321 

"  Christine  !  "  she  rushed  towards  the  friend  coming  to  meet  her,  and, 
striking  her  head  against  the  iron  bars,  fell  stunned  on  the  floor  of 
the  cage. 

Tenderly  they  took  her  up,  and  put  her  in  the  carriage.  They  had 
reached  the  hotel,  had  said  adieu  to  Mr.  Smith,  and  were  safe  in 
Christine's  room,  before  Patience  spoke  to  any  one.  She  had  soon 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  blow.  Only  a  red  mark  on  her  brow 
told  of  the  accident.  But  she  seemed  afraid  to  move.  She  would 
open  her  eyes,  see  Christine,  and  then  close  them  as  she  whispered 
to  herself,  — 

"  Another  dream  !  Alas!  I'll  soon  awake."  And  then  she  would 
shiver  and  moan. 

Christine,  keeping  back  the  tears  that  rose  to  her  eyes  at  this 
pitiful  sight,  put  her  arms  around  her,  kissed  her,  caressed  her ;  but 
still  she  was  unchanged,  and  answered  not.  When,  however,  she  and 
Christine  were  alone  in  the  room,  she  grew  more  restless,  watched 
every  motion  Christine  made  ;  yet,  every  time  her  eyes  met  the  poor 
girl's,  Patience  would  shiver,  and  then  cover  her  face. 

She  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  and  seemed  too  weak  to  move.  She  had 
been  very  still  for  the  last  few  moments.  Christine  was  leaning  over 
her,  gazing  at  her.  She  was  so  emaciated  that  every  bone  was  visible, 
and  her  face  showed  evidence  of  terrible  suffering.  Sallie  had  gone 
out  to  procure  necessary  articles  for  the  poor  child  ;  and  these  two 
friends,  so  sadly  parted,  so  sadly  re-united,  were  alone.  Suddenly 
Patience  opened  her  eyes,  and  saying,  "  Christine,  dear  Christine  !  " 
they  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms. 

Dr.  Grey  called  in  the  evening.  He  found  Patience  quiet  and 
gentle,  but  she  seemed  sane  only  so  far  as  Christine  was  concerned. 

He  told  Christine,  when  she  followed  him  in  the  hall  to  learn  his 
opinion,  that  he  believed  Patience's  mind  would  strengthen  when  her 
health  improved.  She  was  in  a  terribly  reduced  condition  ;  but  her 


f 

322  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

youth,  and  absence  of   local  disease,  were  in   her  favor.     Christine's 
desire  that  he  would,  when  he  could  arrange  the  time,  come,  at  least 

once  a  week,  to  G ,  and  take  Patience  under  his  medical  care,  made 

him    so   happy,  that,  instead  of   saying   he  would   try  to   manage   to 
oblige  her,  he  grasped  her  hand  with  a  hearty  " Thank  you." 

The  following  morning  Christine,  Sallie,  and  Patience  went  back 
to  G . 


PEACE. 


323 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

PEACE. 

T  was  spring-time  once  more  in  the  valley  of  the 
Jordan.  The  blossoms  were  filling  the  air  with 
the  same  sweet  perfume,  the  birds  making  it  musi 
cal  with  song.  But  there  were  no  young  lovers 
under  the  apple-trees.  Only  a  pale,  sad  woman 
holding  tenderly  the  hand  of  a  girl,  who,  no  longer 
a  child,  was  yet  childish.  Patience  had  gained  in 
health  and  strength,  and  her  beauty  was  almost  as 
remarkable  as  ever.  But  in  mind  she  was  still  a 
child.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  every  thing  in 
the  past.  Even  her  alphabet  had  to  be  relearned.  Be 
yond  Christine,  every  event  in  her  life  was  a  blank.  She  lived  as  a 
child  in  the  present,  —  as  a  child  loving  her  new  friends.  All  her 
memory  dated  from  the  hour  in  Christine's  room  at  the  hotel.  Thus 
she  was  always,  except  when  her  melancholy  fits  would  come  on,  and 
she  would  not  know  Christine.  Then  she  would  repeat,  over  and  over 
again,  the  incidents  of  that  terrible  race,  and  the  death-scenes  of 
Christie,  Matthew,  and  Tabitha.  These  moods  were  now  becoming 
fewer  and  fewer,  and  it  was  well  they  were  ;  for  as  her  pathetic  voice 
would  dilate  on  each  detail,  and  her  large  eyes,  distended,  seem  again 
to  behold  them,  Christine's  tears  and  sobs  would  exhaust  her  strength. 
And  Christine  now  had  very  little  strength  to  lose.  She  was  fad 
ing  away  to  the  "  Land  o'  the  Leal."  The  most  casual  observer  saw 


324 


SALT- LAKE  FRUIT. 


this.     She  would,  in  her  moments  of  rest,  lie  quietly  on  the  sofa,  with 
her  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  sky,  as  if  she  saw  the  spirits  of  her  beloved 

ones  stretching  out  their  arms  to  her.     And 
yet   she   was    spared  a  little  longer  to 
watch    over    Patience.      Dr.     Grey 
came  regularly.     He  had,  from  the 
first,  taken  a  great  interest  in  his 
),        patient.     And  as  she  improved  so 
much   beyond   his  expectations,  as 
her  beauty  bloomed  back  into  life, 
and    her   sweet    nature    shone    in 
every   look    and    gesture,    he    had 
grown  to  love  her. 

Christine  and  Patience  were 
expecting  him  this  evening, 
while  they  walked  under  the 
apple-trees  towards  the  house. 

"There  he  comes,"  said  Pa 
tience,  gently  smiling. 

And,  springing  from  the 
carriage,  Dr.  Grey  came 
quickly  to  meet  them.  The 
bright  color  rushed  to  Pa 
tience's  sweet  face,  but  faded 
when  she  saw  he  looked  pale 
and  nervous. 

"Mrs.  Smith,"  he  said 
after  a  little,  "may  I  speak 
with  you  for  a  moment  ? " 
And  then,  turning  to  Patience  as  if  she  were  a  child,  "Will  you  wait 
for  me  under  the  large  tree  yonder  ?  " 


ONLY   A    PALE,    SAD    WOMAN    HOLDING    THE    HAND    OK 
A    GIRL." 


PEACE.  325 

Her  answer  was  a  smile,  as  she  ran  towards  the  tree  he  had 
pointed  out. 

How  sweet  and  fair  she  looked,  standing  under  its  blossoming 
branches  !  Yet  so  unlike  the  bright,  impetuous  Patience  of  other 
times !  Christine's  eyes  had  followed  her ;  and  she  noted,  with  a 
sharp  pang,  that  it  was  the  very  tree  where  she  had  stood,  that 
beautiful  spring-time,  when  Malcolm  won  her  heart  just  a  little  year 
ago. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  thought  of  him  for  many,  many  days. 
He  was  like  one  dead.  Truly  was  he  dead  to  her.  And  yet,  in  this 
soft  evening-light,  he  seemed  to  stand  before  her  in  all  his  beauty. 
Then,  remembering  that  Dr.  Grey  was  waiting,  she  turned  her  head 
with  gracious  gesture  of  attention. 

"Dear  lady,"  he  said,  "I  want  first  to  tell  you  something  of  my 
self,  and  must,  or  you  may  think  me  a  traitor." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  that  sweet  half-smile  encouraged  him  more 
than  any  words  ;  and  he  went  on,  — 

"  I  find  I  cannot  help  loving  Patience,  she  is  so  gentle,  so  sweet ; 
and  I  really  think  her  mind  will  come  all  right.  I  notice,  every  time  I 
see  her,  how  her  intelligence  develops.  Yet,  in  her  affliction,  she  is 
but  a  child  ;  and  I  seem  a  mean-spirited  fellow  to  even  think  of  trying 
to  win  her  affection  from  you,  who  have  done  so  much  for  her,  and 
should  keep  her  growing  strength  to  care  for  and  tend  you.  So  I 
thought  I'd  just  tell  you  what  a  fool  I  am,  and  to-night  say  'good-by' 
forever,  lest  I  turn  knave." 

He  was  so  earnest  and  manly  !  Not  handsome,  but  with  a  true 
look  in  the  clear  gray  eyes,  a  true  ring  in  the  deep  voice. 

"Doctor,"  —  Christine's  voice  was  very  low  and  faint,  —  "you 
have  lifted  the  last  of  this  world's  cares  from  off  my  heart.  I  have 
not  long  to  live.  I  feel  my  strength  waning  day  by  day.  See  how 
wasted  I  am  !  "  And  she  held  out  one  thin  hand.  "  But  I  felt  I  could 


326  SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 

not  die  in  peace,  and  leave  my  dear  girl  to  an  uncertain  future.  I  am 
quite  content  now.  I  can  trust  her  with  you." 

He  kissed  the  hand  she  extended  to  him,  and  thanked  her.  But,  man 
and  doctor  as  he  was,  he  could  not  keep  back  the  tears  when  he  looked 
at  the  noble  woman  before  him,  and  knew  she  was  speaking  the  truth. 

"  A  martyr !  A  glorified  martyr  !  Sacrificed  to  the  cruel  Moloch 
of  Utah,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

He  was  still  looking  at  her,  when  she  said,  — 

"Go  to  Patience."     And  then  she  turned  up  the  walk  to  the  house. 

Dr.  Grey  had  almost  forgotten  the  other  matter.  It  was  a  note 
from  John  Smith  to  Christine.  She  took  it,  saying  gently,  — 

"  Give  my  love  and  blessing  to  Patience." 

As  she  turned,  her  steps  were  uncertain.  Seeing  this,  Dr.  Grey 
wanted  to  walk  with  her  to  the  house  ;  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  no.  Go  to  Patience.  Tell  her  I  shall  hope  and  pray  for  her 
happiness."  Then  she  turned  once  more  towards  the  tree  where  Pa 
tience  was  waiting,  and  kissed  her  hand  to  the  sweet  girl. 

"  God  bless  her  !  "  she  said,  and  then  walked  slowly  to  the  house. 
Dr.  Grey  did  not  move  until  she  had  taken  several  steps.  She  seemed 
stronger ;  and  then,  with  a  few  hurried  strides,  he  was  with  Patience. 

Slowly  Christine  walked  up  the  little  path  with  the  unopened  letter 
in  her  hand.  She  would  not  read  it  here  :  she  was  on  sacred  ground. 
Here  were  the  unmarked  graves  of  those  she  loved, — father,  baby, 
Tabitha,  Martin,  and  little  Christie.  These  were  her  sacred  dead. 

"  And  Rex,  faithful  friend  !  "  she  murmured. 

Sallie  ran  out  to  meet  her  dear  lady.  She  looked  even  paler  than 
usual.  But  she  smiled  as  Sallie  helped  her  to  a  chair  ;  and  her  smile 
was  a  rare,  rare  thing.  Sallie  was  ready  to  forgive  her  bitterest  enemy, 
she  was  so  happy  at  that  smile. 

"I  have  a  letter  to  read,  Sallie.  I'll  sit  here  on  the  porch,  and 
read  it,  while  I  wait  for  supper." 


PEACE.  327 

"  All  right,  deary,"  said  the  delighted  Sallie,  and  was  going  off  to 
hurry  up  the  supper,  when  again  her  mistress's  voice  :  — 

"  Sallie,  will  you  always  live  with  Patience,  even  if  I  should  die  ?  " 

"  O  deary,  deary,  don't  speak  of  dyin' !  "  And  poor  Sallie  straight 
way  began  to  cry.  "  But  indeed  I'll  live  with  Miss  Patience,  or  any 
one,  to  please  you." 

Again  Christine  smiled. 

But  Sallie's  gladness  was  all  washed  away  by  her  tears.  She  went 
in  the  house  quickly,  so  her  sobs  might  not  disturb  her  "deary." 

Christine  opened  the  letter,  the  smile  still  on  her  face.  Before 
glancing  at  it,  she  looked  towards  the  great  apple-tree,  and  saw  Pa 
tience  in  her  lover's  arms.  The  smile  deepened  ;  and  murmuring, 
"  God  bless  them  !  "  she  began  to  read. 

"  DEAR  CHRISTINE,  —  Your  will,  in  favor  of  Patience,  has  been  duly  registered. 
It  seems  tome  a  wise  provision,  —  making  Dr.  Grey  her  guardian.  He  has  greatly 
benefited  her,  you  say.  I  have  made  wide  inquiries,  and  find  he  stands  high  in  the 
opinion  of  the  older  men  in  the  medical  profession.  His  being  a  Gentile  will  not 
occasion  any  difficulty.  I  will  give  the  matter  my  particular  attention,  being  only  too 
glad  to  be  of  any  service  to  you. 

"  There  will  be  a  great  many  items  in  the  papers  about  Malcolm  "  — 

Here  Christine  paused  for  a  second,  and  put  her  hand  on  her  heart. 
The  bare  name  of  him  she  had  so  loved  awakened  such  intense  pain. 
Then  she  read  on  :  — 

"  Malcolm  that  may  distress  you.  He  is  safe  out  of  the  country,  with  enough 
money  to  give  him  a  fresh  start  in  Brazil,  where  he  has  now  gone.  I  attended  to  this, 
thinking  you  would  so  wish  it.  He  really  has  robbed  the  bank,  where  for  years  he 
held  a  responsible  position,  and  is  defaulter  to  a  considerable  amount.  But  he  prom- 
'ised  amendment;  and  he  is  young,  so  he  may  begin  to  lead  a  better  life.  Don't 
grieve  over  it.  And,  for  God's  sake,  take  care  of  yourself !  With  your  permission, 
I  shall  run  down  to  see  you  and  Patience  next  week.  May  I  ? 

"  Sincerely  your  uncle, 

"JOHN   SMITH." 


328 


SALT-LAKE  FRUIT. 


She  read  it  through  to  the  last  word.  And  then  such  a  strange 
feeling  came  over  her.  She  tried  to  call  Sallie,  but  could  not  speak. 
Suddenly  there  stood  before  her  her  grandfather,  holding  her  baby. 
Her  own  baby  !  She  knew  it  at  once,  with  its  dear  little  hands  held 
towards  her.  And  her  grandfather,  how  happy  he  looked  ! 


CHRISTINE    FELL   BACK    IN    THE    CHAIR,    DEAD.' 


"  Father !  "  she  cried,  her  voice  ringing  out  as  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

Sallie  heard  the  clear  tones,  and  stopped  work,  listening  in  amaze, 
then,  with  a  sudden  fear  that  sent  the  blood  to  her  head,  rushed  to  the 
porch.  She  reached  the  door  just  as  Christine  fell  back  in  the  chair,  dead. 

There  she  rested,  joy  upon  the  still  face,  smiles  on  her  parted  lips/ 

Sallie,  at  her  feet  sobbing,  dared  not  touch  her,  lest  she  disturb 
the  blessedness  of  her  rest. 

In  peace  at  last,  sweet  soul,  in  peace  ! 


*URN 


202 


DEPARTMENT 

Library 


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HOME  USE 

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T~           " 

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FOPAA  M^    nn  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 

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^Mmmm^™»*mmmmm ®s 

M 


U.U 


